


SBCG4AP, Episode 5 Rewrite: 8-Bit is More than Enough

by ToughAqua777



Category: Homestar Runner
Genre: Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Don't copy to another site, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Out of Character, Rewrite, Tags Contain Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughAqua777/pseuds/ToughAqua777
Summary: Being in a video game was always a big dream of Strong Bad's. But now that the dream is a reality, he realizes that it's not nearly as fun as he thought it would be. Now he has no choice but to kill the dragon he created, rescue his rival, and save the world from an 8-Bit doom.
Relationships: Homestar Runner & Strong Bad
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. You Glitched the Whole Freakin' World!

**Author's Note:**

> A rewrite of the final episode of Strong Bad's Cool Game for Attractive People, Episode 5: 8-Bit is Enough! Don't worry, nothing drastic has changed...okay, maybe a few things. But the general story is there! That being said, I'm determined to finish this, so stick around, and I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an accident involving Strong ~~Bad~~ Sad breaking the Trogdor machine, the machine went berserk. Strong Bad finally managed to "fix" it, but...well, read on to find out what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this fic doesn't start right at the beginning of the episode. Sorry about that. I just felt like the events leading up to the rest of the story didn't need to be rewritten. You could always look the episode up on YouTube or on the Homestar Wiki if you're curious as to what happened beforehand.

Pain.

Out of all the sensations he’d feel first after installing the logic board, the last thing he expected to feel was pain. Waves upon waves of it hit him like a truck, threatening to smash him into itty-bitty pieces.

Have you ever felt like your body was being pulled apart while lasers shot into your eyes as a seriously bright light and loud noise crush your brain? Well, neither had Strong Bad until this moment.

One would’ve thought installing a logic board into a Trogdor machine gone sentient and rogue and beating the crap outta everybody would be easy. And it was! But _wow._

After a few seconds that felt like...a _lot longer_ than a few seconds, the pain stopped and Strong Bad found himself on the ground, his body sore from his experience. Getting up, he dusted himself off a bit as he gathered his bearings.

“Well, that was easy...and extremely painful.”

That phrase didn’t make much sense, but Strong Bad didn’t care. What he did care about was that the machine was fixed, he can play Trogdor again, and that he was gonna take some painkillers as soon as he got home. Which reminded him; he should probably trick someone into carrying the machine back to his place.

Homestar was the closest one; he _was_ playing on the machine, after all. “Hey, Homest—”

_...What?_

Where did that loser go? Did he get blown away by the machine or something? That would be hilarious!

Strong Bad’s train of thought crashed when he heard a loud roar from the direction of...

_Strong Badia!!_

If he weren’t running on adrenaline, Strong Bad wouldn’t be running at all due to the initial sore feeling he felt all over him. But this was more important! Strong Badia may be under att—

Strong Bad skidded to a halt as he gazed at his now burning, smoking, and ruined kingdom.

“NOOOOO!! My poor kingdom!!”

He would’ve mourned longer if he didn’t hear one more roar and a familiar silhouette appear and emerge from the flames.

“Trogdor?!”

Trogdor—his own creation—was burninating Strong Badia?!

No! No, no, no! This wasn’t right! He’s not supposed to be burninating HIS countryside! They’re supposed to be Burninating Friends Foreva! “Bad Trogdor! Heel!”

It was then that Trogdor breathed fire in Strong Bad’s direction, the latter barely jumping back in time to avoid the flames, but directly afterwards, Trogdor lunged forward via spine straightening (which the writer made up) and tried to bite him. Strong Bad narrowly escaped via side-stepping to the right, but one of the dragon’s teeth nicked him just below his left elbow, leaving a small cut that Strong Bad couldn’t help but wince at as he registered the pain.

Trogdor suddenly stopped attacking, and gave his equivalent of a smirk to Strong Bad, who had stumbled to the ground after the side-step.

 **“Weakling mortal!"** His robotic voice bellowed, **"Your attempts to command me are audacious and foolish! You aren’t even worth burninating!”**

In any normal situation, Strong Bad would’ve retorted that surprisingly deep-cutting phrase with a comeback of his own. But this wasn’t a normal situation for Strong Bad. Not even close. He could only lie on the ground in disbelief, betrayal and anguish eating away at him as Trogdor roared in his face and ran off.

He only began to sit up when he was certain that Trogdor wasn’t nearby. He wiped his eyes as they began to burn lightly with unshed tears. His own creation, destroying his kingdom and almost killing him! Who _wouldn’t_ be hurt after something like th—

“Hey Strong Bad, is this a bad time?”

Strong Bad quickly stood up. “I-I wasn’t crying!”

_Phew, that was cl—Is that a pop-up window?_

“Wait, Homestar? Where are you?”

“I’m in your interface. Pwetty cool, huh?”

_Seriously?!_

“Well get out! I’ve got enough to worry about without you gettin' all up in my HUD like some kinda pop-up spam!”

“Yeah, that’s a pwoblem. I think I’m stuck here. Oh, and by the way...”

_Oh no. Please don’t be an ad...!_

“...did you know that Total Load can enlarge your vectwoid region by 27 percent? Click here to find out how!”

Strong Bad facepalmed, grumbling to himself. “First the burnination of Strong Badia, then Trogdor’s betrayal, now _HomeSpam_...”

Could this day get any—

“Strong Bad!” Wait a minute. That deep and soothing voice...

Strong Bad turned around to see Homsar quickly floating over to him. The latter slowed to a halt in-front of Strong Bad, a surprisingly concerned look on his face. “Are you two alright?”

“Homsar? Since when was I able to understand you again?”

“Again?” Homestar gave Strong Bad a look of confusion as Homsar approached. “And since when could he talk?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Homsar sighed, mostly in relief. “Well, it’s good to see that you two are well...save for that red cut there.”

Homsar’s gaze fell upon Strong Bad’s cut arm (the cut wasn’t bleeding, for some reason), the latter covering it with his right hand. “It’s just a cut, I’ll be—”

“No, any and all healing will help you, believe me.”

Before either Strong Bad or Homestar could question him. Homsar started to sing a very low note. “Aaaaaaaaaaaa...”

A weird, tingling sensation went through Strong Bad’s arm, and on instinct, the wrestle-man removed his hand. The cut was gone. “What the crap...?”

“You can do that?!” Homestar shouted in surprise, mouth agape as he looked over to where the cut once was before his screen turned to Homsar.

“Yeah.”

A minute of awkwardness passed as they and the writer tried to figure out how to continue with the increasingly confusing conversation and situation.

Strong Bad, realizing that the writer was freakin’ useless, finally came-up with something after clearing his throat. “What was that about the healing?”

Homsar startled out of whatever awkwardness loop he was in as he responded. “Oh. Well, before I answer that, I need to confirm something: Did either of you see a bright white light and/or feel an immense amount of pain earlier?”

Strong Bad was about to respond, but Homestar beat him to it. “Yeah! I felt a little woozy, then I couldn’t see, then I felt like something was pulling me into something, and now I’m stuck with this pop-up window thing inside of a dungeon!”

“A dungeon? I see...What about you, Strong Bad?”

Strong Bad began to describe his own experience, but as he did, he couldn’t help but wonder how and why Homestar had the same issue...except for that last part. How’d he wind-up in a dungeon? And where? And what about Homsar? What does he know?

Once he had finished, Strong Bad’s confusion turned into worry as Homsar grimaced. “I see...then the world truly has been altered...”

“Altered?”

“Indeed. It has, as you may call, glitched. Or merged. Whatever you prefer.”

“That’s...even more confusing.”

Homsar, realizing that this was getting nowhere, rephrased. “What I’m saying is whatever you two did to fix the machine, it caused a chain-reaction of convoluted nonsense combined with that abomination of a logic board and merged the real world with the video game world!”

“What?!” Strong Bad and Homestar overlapped one-another upon hearing that. How the crap did they do that?!

_And why the crap didn’t I do this earlier?!_

“There’s more; because you two were the closest to ‘ground zero’ of the merge, you two now have very special roles to play.”

“Special roles?” Homestar questioned, his window moving forward slightly in the process.

“Yeah. The role of the ‘villain’ was already taken, so you two had to fill the roles of the ‘hero’ and the ‘damsel-in-distress’.”

“Ooh, cool! Who’s who?”

Strong Bad facepalmed again, because it was obvious what role Homestar took, but then he realized what that made _him._ A surge of excitement rushed through him, a smile forming on his face.

“...Holy crap, I’M THE MAIN CHRACTER!!”

Finally! After all this time, _he_ gets to be the star! Not that he wasn’t already a star, but still! A new game, staring _him_ as the lead role! A cool game meant for attractive people, because how cool would that be?! This was awesome!

Homsar’s hat thwacked him on the side of the head, shaking him out of his delighted dream. “Ow! What the—”

“This isn’t a game, Strong Bad!” Homsar spoke loudly and angrily, something uncharacteristic of Homsar as far as anyone was aware. Strong Bad and Homestar jumped slightly, Homestar’s screen moving closer to Strong Bad.

“I didn’t say—”

“You were thinking it. I could tell by the look on your face.”

_Man, am I really that transparent?_

“At any rate, the roles you play now are crucial, because they’re now part of the ‘story’ that must have an ending if we want the world to return to normal.”

“Story? Does it involve Trogdor?”

“Yes. You, Strong Bad, must rescue Homestar—and save the world—by killing Trogdor. Since his game was the source of the blast, he must be defeated so that the worlds can be restored. I understand if this is hard for you, considering Trogdor is of your creation, but—”

Strong Bad shook his head. “Actually, no. I’m fine with it.”

“You are?” Homsar and Homestar synchronized their responses.

“He freakin’ burninated Strong Badia and tried to attack ME! His _creator!_ He even made me stuck with Homestar!”

“Oh, that makes se—HEY!” Strong Bad nearly fell over when Homestar’s window jerked towards him in offense.

“...Well,” Homsar began, “that makes things easier. You’ll have to get to him first.”

“Uh...yeah, but a few questions. One—”

“Why are there red bars above your heads?” Homestar interrupted, his window moving up to a little above Strong Bad’s head, signaling to a red bar with a pixelated white outline around it. To its left, there were two letters in white text: HP.

“Oh wait, I know that answer.” Strong Bad started, “That’s a Life Bar. Keeps track of your HP, and, uh...basically it tells you how close you are to dying.”

A thought popped into Strong Bad’s head as he spoke. If he and Homsar have those Life Bars, does everyone else have one too? And why?

“That’s why I said any and all healing will help you, Strong Bad.” Homsar said, grimly. “Everyone has a Life Bar now. If anyone’s Life Bar goes empty, they die 10 minutes later. But if _you_ were to die and there was no way to revive you within ten minutes, the ‘game’ is over, and the world is doomed. A similar thing will happen if Homestar were to die, but—”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Nobody said anything about _dying_ , Homsar!”

“Like I said, this isn’t a game. And even if it is, our life is _very_ real.”

Suddenly Strong Bad wasn’t sure if being a main character was a good idea anymore. Maybe there was an easier way to kill a dragon.

_That reminds me..._

“Uh, do either of you know how to kill a dragon?”

Homsar opened his mouth to respond, only for it to close. That’s probably a no.

“Hey! Listen!” Homestar spoke up like some annoying fairy. “Those guys in video games are _always_ killing dwagons! Have you tried getting into the game and asking them?”

“How am I supposed to get in the game?”

“You wanna get in the game, you gotta WANT it! Be the ball! Live your dweams! Believe in yourself! You never get a second chance to make a first impwession! Now are you gonna get in there and show that dwagon who’s end boss?!”

_Wow. That was surprisingly motivating!_

“Yeah!” A confident Strong Bad jumped up in the air, doing an air punch.

“I can’t hear you! But I’m gonna assume you said ‘yeah.’ The acoustics in this game are TERWIBLE.”

At the end of that totally not copy-pasted scene, Homestar’s window closed, ending communication.

Strong Bad made a beeline to the Trogdor Machine, but before he could enter it, Homsar floated over next to him, making Strong Bad pause. “Wait, are you coming with me?”

“No, but I want to inform you that I will remain here. I wish to see just what kind of affect the gaming world has had upon our world. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”

Strong Bad acknowledged this with a nod, Homsar floating away shortly afterwards. He turned his attention back to the Trogdor Machine, looking at the still open cabinet specifically.

“Get in the game...alright, let’s do this!”

He took a deep breath, jumped up, and felt his body begin to change. He didn’t really see what happened, but he did know that by the end, he was small enough to fit into the Trogdor Machine.

And that’s how Strong Bad began the craziest adventure of his life...at least, at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I get an F in the comments for that cheesy last line? (please don't actually do this)
> 
> See you next chapter!


	2. Convoluted Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like both video games and the real world took this whole merging process hard. A lot of things have changed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the detour with the one-shot I wrote! Here's the next chapter!

He _totally_ didn’t trip. Nope. Not at all. And he _totally_ didn’t think he was in Heaven before Homestar had popped-up to speak again. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Though, he had to admit, he could see _why_ he could’ve thought that (which he didn’t).

This whole blue, hexagonal area contained gateways to more of Videlectrix games! Like Peasant’s Quest, Stinkoman 20X6 (which was region locked) _,_ Trogdor (which was broken, understandably), Space Circus Catastrophe (no way he was going in there, though), and two others he didn’t recognize right away. This was a gamer’s dream!

Kinda made him wish he didn’t have a dragon to kill.

At Homestar’s suggestion (not that he needed it), he made a beeline towards the entrance for Peasant’s Quest, barely containing his excitement. He was about to go inside the best video computer TV game of all time! This was gonna be awesome!

Before he could jump in, however, a voice rang out. “Beyond this door, a world of short-panted adventure awaits! Are you ready to experience the realm of Peasantry first hand?”

“Ready?!? I’ve only been waiting for this for like my entire life!”

“Then first: thou must answer mine riddle! What is PAUL REVERE's favorite ICE CREAM FLAVOR?”

Strong Bad’s initial excitement quickly degraded into annoyance. “What?!? What kind of question is that? Who are you, anyway?”

As soon as he asked this, a giant wheel appeared at Strong Bad’s feet. A code wheel, to be precise. On the outer ring were 4 Colonial Ghosts (each holding something different), Thy Dungeonman, the Jhonka, Kid Speedy, and Trogdor himself. The middle ring held a hot dog, a key, a box with a line in it (a lantern?), a pile of pixelated riches, a feather, an...8-Bit thing (he had no idea what it was), YON TRINKET, and a thatched roof cottage. And finally, in the inner ring, was some...red static that couldn’t possibly be seen through without something else red and see-through.

“I am the Copy Protector! Use this code wheel and InvisiGlasses™ to aid you on your quest. The answer is on page 38 of your manual.”

Oh, that’s not good. He didn’t have the manual for Peasant’s Quest, mostly because the game was like a billion years old. And InvisiGlasses™ haven’t been made since Thy Dungeonman 0: No Text Edition.

Homestar’s window popped-up, prompting Strong Bad to turn towards the imprisoned athlete. “Do you have either of those?”

“Well..." Strong Bad hesitated before admitting the truth, "No.”

“Then thou art well and truly doomed.”

“We didn’t ask you!” Strong Bad and Homestar both turned and angrily synchronized their responses before walking away.

As they moved away, Homestar began pondering out loud. “Where would we find Paul Rwevere anyways? Isn’t he dead?”

He had a point. How were they supposed to—

_Wait._

Strong Bad perked up a bit. “Spirits of 76!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a game back at my house. Pretty sure his ghost is in that game. Problem is I have no idea what he looks like. But hey, at least we can talk to him in-person, right?”

He turned to where Homestar’s window should’ve been, but he wasn’t there. Freakin’ moron. Well, at least he knew where to go from—

“Hey Strong Bad! Look over here! Space Clowns!”

Strong Bad turned his head up to where Homestar was, which was dangerously close to the portal leading to Space Circus Catastrophe. Grimacing, he responded, “Homestar, there’s NO WAY I’m going in there. Those evil space clowns are BAD NEWS, man.”

“The clowns are evil?! Aww...does that mean the perfowming bears are evil too?”

“No, but I _love_ those bears!”

As soon as Strong Bad finished his sentence, a performing bear jumped out of the game’s portal, knocked away Homestar’s window (forcing it closed), and landed right next to our hero. “Whoa what the crap?!”

The bear began to bounce in-place for a bit, before proceeding to circle around him, much to Strong Bad’s confusion. The bear eventually stopped moving and bounced a bit again before seemingly disappearing.

**PERFORMING BEAR has joined your party!**

Strong Bad jumped as he heard the unrecognizable automated voice, turning himself this way and that as if trying to find the source. Finding nothing, however, he sighed in both relief and annoyance.

_That better not become a thing..._

A familiar noise pulled him back to reality, Strong Bad looking up to see Homestar’s window reappear. “Uh, you okay Strong Bad?”

_So he didn’t hear that voice..._

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Just...thought I heard something. Let’s just get to my house.”

Homestar gave him a skeptical look before shrugging (without shoulders, somehow), and disappearing. Great. Now not only is he hearing things, but he’s got Homestar on his case too.

On the bright side, he’s kinda glad the bear got attached to him. Not that anyone needed to know that.

* * *

Getting back outside the machine was easy enough. So was getting to his house. But as the sky began to darken upon approach, Strong Bad mentally prepared himself for the worst.

And while “the worst” wasn’t the case, what _was_ the case wasn’t much better.

“Great. And now the house is haunted.” Strong Bad grumbled aloud, a flat look on his face.

“G-g-g-ghosts?” Homestar reappeared, frightened to the point of trembling, “You go on without me, big guy. I’ll stay back in the van with The Cheat!”

Annoyed, Strong Bad turned to Homestar. “One: You don’t have a van.”

“Oh wight, I—”

“Two: I _wish_ I could get rid of you that easily.”

“Hey!”

“Three: I don’t even know where The Cheat _is_ right now—”

“Do you th—"

“And Four: These aren't even the groundskeeper-wearing-a-sheet-covered-in-phosphorescent-paint kinda ghosts, anyway! They’re from a freakin’ _video game_ made of _pixels!”_

“Are they...spooky GHOST pixels?”

Upon gulping that final line, Homestar vanished, leaving a frustrated Strong Bad who _really_ wanted to punch him. Instead, he resorted to another facepalm.

Not wanting to stand around and watch ghosts circle his house, he stomped towards the door, only to open it—and take one step into—pitch-black darkness.

“Wh—how am I supposed to see anything in here?”

He never got an answer, but he did get multiple Redcoat Ghosts to gather and charge towards him. _“LEAVE THIS PLACE!”_

Strong Bad quickly stepped back, slamming the door shut before stumbling onto the ground.

_That was way too close._

As he pushed himself up, he tried to recall what exactly countered those ghosts. What was it again? The Light...Light Gun? No, that wasn’t it. Light Rifle? No...

Oh yeah, the Light Musket! Maybe he can drive away the ghosts with that!

...Provided he could find it.

As Strong Bad walked away, he tried to remember where exactly he saw the stupid thing last. If it were inside his house...well, that would suck.

Oh wait, now he remembered. It broke a while back and he gave it to Bubs for fixing. He probably still has it. No harm asking for it back, right?

* * *

“Somebody help! She’s gone crazy!”

Strong Bad’s mouth fell agape as he witnessed the mess that was the Concession Stand and the area around it. Marzipan looked like she was beyond livid and was throwing crates everywhere, Bubs was freaking out and scared out of his mind, a nearby bush had been demolished leading to another clearing, the scaffolding on the Concession Stand had collapsed, and there were algebraic equations flying around everywhere.

“...What am I even supposed to say here?!?”

As if to answer his question, an equation suddenly flew straight at him, socking him in the face before exploding into small 8-Bits. Falling to the ground with a grunt, Strong Bad quickly pushed himself up to his feet...only to see more equations charging at him!

“Oh crap!” Strong Bad dashed away, narrowly avoiding three equations, but a different one slammed into his left arm, and another into his back. Pain shot through him as miniature 8-Bit explosions collided with his body, forcing him onto the ground.

He could hear the other equations rushing at him, and for a moment, Strong Bad began to regret not paying attention in his Algebra class back in school. Maybe that was why he stopped playing Math Kickers.

As if the world was in-sync with Strong Bad’s thoughts, he heard fireballs and miniature explosions once again, but no pain. He decided to take advantage of whatever was happening behind him and pushed himself up, dashing into a nearby bush before peeking out to see what was going on.

Just as he thought, there they were: The Algebros! They were taking care of those equations with great skill and ever greater fireballs.

Sighing in relief, he relaxed a bit, only for the initial pain he endured to flare up. Flinching, Strong Bad sat down and looked himself over. Visibly, he was fine, but he knew he was hurt if the pain was anything to go by. Just how bad was it, though?

A familiar pop-up appeared beside him, revealing a panicked Homestar. “Strong Bad! You’re HP! It’s gone down!”

Strong Bad gave Homestar a flat look. _Thank you, Captain Obvious._ “Yeah, I know. How much is left?”

“Um...more than half, but—”

“Then I’ll be fine.”

Before Homestar could retaliate, the two heard pixelated footsteps approaching. Jumping out of the bush, Strong Bad found that the Algebros were approaching him.

“Oh, hey guys! Thanks for the save.”

 **“No problem, man.”** The bro with blond hair, Dex, said. **“But dude, your world is bogus!”**

 **“I had sensed that the balance had been broken, and now I see why.”** Ryu, the bro with no shirt, spoke up. **“The equations, my brother and I...we do not belong here.”**

“Yeah, about that. I pretty much gotta kill a dragon to get all you guys back where you belong.”

The bros looked at the wrestle-man, and if the latter knew anything, they’d be giving him a weird look right about now. But honestly? “It’s a _long_ story...Do you wanna help?”

The bros pondered it for a moment, before giving their responses.

**“Radical idea, dude!”**

**“Let us restore the balance together!”**

At that moment, the two disappeared, leaving Strong Bad confused. Didn’t they _just_ _say_ they were coming?

**THE ALGEBROS have joined your party!**

Strong Bad jumped again, this time staying completely still, because he’s pretty sure he heard that automated voice again... _in his head._

“Strong Bad? You _sure_ you’re gonna be okay?”

_Oh crap, right! Homestar’s still here!_

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Homestar pressed X to doubt and leaned-in, making Strong Bad realize there was no way he was getting out of this without giving an explanation. Why did he have to get on his case...?

“Strong Bad! Homestar!”

Oh, _thank god_. Homsar’s here to interrupt.

The two turned to the direction of Homsar’s voice, Homsar himself floating over to the duo...angrily.

_Oh. Right. My Life Bar._

“You’re supposed to _avoid_ getting killed, remember?”

Strong Bad grimaced, fearful that he could very well be on his way to be scolded by _Homsar_ , of all people. Instead, the weird little misspelling simply sighed, and sung a low note once again. This time, Strong Bad felt the tingling sensation all over his body, although it mostly centered on his back and left arm.

 _God, it’s always gonna feel weird, isn’t it? _“Um...thanks.”

“Of course.” Homsar responded flatly, afterwards turning to Homestar. “What of you, Homestar?”

“Oh, I’m okay! Strong Bro is acting funny though.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Well, hopefully he isn’t acting as ‘funny’ as our friends.” Homsar said, a worried expression crossing his face.

Strong Bad was about to ask what he meant, but then he remembered; Marzipan! “Oh yeah, like with Marzipan?”

“Marzipan?” Homestar questioned, “Is she having one of her ‘episodes’ again? If she is, you just gotta pwetend you’re listening to her.”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that. Marzipan doesn’t even think she’s Marzipan anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, this was meant to be one of the first times you'd see a multiple different font types be used for speakers (Trogdor was the actual first), but since I'm too lazy to code that type of thing into a work skin, I settled for bolding, italicizing, and underlining some stuff instead.
> 
> Also, sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger.


	3. Brainglitched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind is a tricky thing, but who would've thought that the shockwave would scramble brains?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know "brainglitched" isn't a word, but I also don't care. Anyways, read on!
> 
> (Sorry for being bad at Chapter Summaries!)

“...What?”

Homsar sighed in exasperation, and repeated, “I said—”

“No, I heard you,” Strong Bad continued, “Just...what? How and why did that happen?”

“Well, the why is because of the merging of worlds, and the how...not even I know.”

Strong Bad tried to wrap his head around the new info. If Marzipan didn’t think she was herself anymore, what did she _think_ she was? And what about everyone else? Were they all the same way?

Homestar chimed in with his oblivious skepticism. “Um, are you _sure_ it’s not one of her episodes?”

For a moment, Homsar glared flatly at Homestar before relaxing a bit. “I’m sure, mostly because it’s not just her who’s been affected. I haven’t found all of our friends, but out of those I did find, only Bubs appears to have his mind straight. Everyone else thinks they’re somebody else!”

“Really? Then who’s Marzipan now?! And what about Pom Pom?!” Homestar seemed kinda frantic now, and honestly, Strong Bad couldn’t blame him; the new info _was_ a little worrying. Was The Cheat okay? What about Strong Mad? And how come he, Homestar, Homsar, and Bubs weren’t affected?

He shoved away his increasingly worried thoughts, which had apparently drowned out Homsar calming down the captive not-title character. _Don’t let it get to you, Strong Bad. Don’t. Let it. Get to you._

“Anyways,” Homsar continued, “From who & what I’ve found, Marzipan appears to have become the Lady Crate Ape from a game of the same name. The Poopsmith believes himself to be someone called Mista Fixit.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I haven’t found them yet.”

Strong Bad was a bit annoyed by that response. No word from The Cheat or Strong Mad, then.

Homestar must’ve noticed the look on his face, because he was the one to speak his mind, “How come we haven’t changed?”

“For you two, I believe it’s because of your roles. For Bubs, it could be because he was just close enough to the blast of light to be unaffected by its mind-warping abilities, while Marzipan was just out of reach.”

“But what about you?”

Homsar opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then closed it again.

Strong Bad decided to cut the hesitation loop short. “You either don’t know, or it’s a long story, right?”

“Yes. Let’s...go with that.”

“All I needed to know.” Strong Bad pondered for a bit before getting back in-business; he needed that Light Musket. “By the way, is there any good way to help Bubs out?”

“As of now, no. I tried, and I’m lucky I didn’t die right then and there.”

_Oh yeah, those crates one-shot the player in her game. Crap._

“But if it’s to get something from him, it might be in the crates Marzipan is throwing.”

“Alright, good to know.”

“Strong Bad?” Homestar chimed back-in (when did he chime-out?), “What are we looking for?”

“Something called the Light Musket. It’ll help with those ghosts.”

“Well then, you two go find it. Meanwhile,” Homsar started to float away, “I’m going to see where the others are.”

As Homsar hovered farther away, Strong Bad dashed off towards the clearing with the crates, Homestar’s window disappearing. It wasn’t hard to find it; it contained a large pile of crates, plus a few lone crates here and there.

“Nooooo! The Dangercaresque!”

Strong Bad turned towards the sound of Homestar’s sorrowful voice, whose window had popped-up (again) next to the Dangercaresque...which was now crushed by three crates.

“NOOOOOO!” Strong Bad ran over and joined Homestar in his grief. The poor Dangercaresque! Died before its time! And just when they finished Dangeresque 3: The Criminal Projective! Why did it have to die like this?!

_“SSSssssss! SSSsssssss!”_

_What the crap...?_

Strong Bad looked towards the front of the car, only to find 3 8-bit snakes.

“Snakes?!” _I don’t remember adding snakes...Why didn’t I remember to add snakes?_

Homestar’s window turned towards the snakes, surprised. “Whoa! You added snakes?”

“No, but remind me to add some later.”

The snakes turned to the two before suddenly vanishing, almost as if they knew they were being admired.

**SNAKES have joined your party!**

" _Stop_ doing that!!"

Homestar’s window jumped (as did Homestar himself) at Strong Bad’s sudden outburst, the latter knocking lightly on his own head with his hands. Well, it wasn’t all that sudden for Strong Bad, since he was the only person hearing that freakin’ voice.

“Strong Bad.”

Strong Bad’s demeanor went from angered to ‘oh crap’ upon hearing Homestar’s very serious tone. The wrestle-man turned towards the out-of-character athlete, trying to hide his worry. “Uh…what?”

Homestar gave Strong Bad an irritated expression and leaned-in. He wasn’t going away without an explanation of why Strong Bad just shouted. “You’ve been actin' funny ever since we went in the game. _You_ tell _me_.”

“Oh...uh...” _How am I supposed to word this without him thinking I lost it?_

“ _Now_.”

“Alright, alright! Geez!” Strong Bad held his hands up in defense, “Look, when The Algebros, that circus bear, and now the snakes vanished, they apparently ‘joined my party.’ I know what that is, but I only know they joined because there’s some robot voice in my head.”

Dead silence. Homestar’s mouth fell agape at first with shock. And Strong Bad felt like all eyes were on him during the _last time_ he wanted all the attention.

“That...kinda makes sense.”

“Oh okay cool—wait, what?”

“Didn’t Homsar say you were the ‘hero’ or something?”

 _Homestar believed me? And said something smart?_ “Ye...yeah, he did. When you put it like that...”

“Yeah...”

An awkward silence passed between them, Homestar looking like he wanted to ask another question but was stopping himself, and Strong Bad _really_ wanting to be left alone.

“So, uh...” Homestar started, oddly nervous, “I’m gonna go...now...”

“Yeah, uh...you do that...”

And with that, Homestar’s window vanished.

It was then Strong Bad let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. That ended so...simply. So why was he so tense?

He shook his head. _Forget about it. Just focus on finding the Light Musket._

Although, that brought him to another problem; there were crates. Endless amounts of crates. _Everywhere_. Where would he even begin?

Maybe the lone crates would be easier to get to. With any luck, the Musket was in those.

He began to walk towards the closest one when he noticed something...punching...near his feet. Backing up, he looked closer at the area he almost stepped in.

“Snake Boxer?”

There he was, the great Snake Boxer himself, in all his two-dimensional glory.

“I almost didn’t see you there, man! What are you up to?”

Before any response could be made, the snakes that joined reappeared and slithered onto the box. Before Strong Bad could react, Snake Boxer started laying punches onto that very box, breaking it, and causing the snakes to flee back into Strong Bad’s party.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Strong Bad held up his hands in defense, noticing that Snake Boxer wasn’t stopping with his punches, “Calm down, man! I didn’t ask them to stick around!”

 _But come to think of it..._ “Hey, maybe you could help me out? Your blocky fists of fury could come in handy. Wanna join my party to save reality?”

Silence.

“Um...I’ll let you keep punching the snakes!”

At that, Snake Boxer seemingly vanished.

**SNAKE BOXER has joined your party!**

This time, Strong Bad didn’t flinch, but he did let out a sharp exhale through his non-existent nose. He was _never_ gonna get used to that.

He turned his attention back to the now broken-open box. “What’s in this box anyway?”

Peering into the smashed box, he found a very familiar white, gun-like device, and next to it were a photonic ramrod and frequency frisson, as Strong Bad will now state.

“All right! The Light Musket! Complete with photonic ramrod and frequency frisson!”

Quickly grabbing the items within, he rushed away from the area and made a beeline towards his house.

* * *

“You’re weally going in there?!”

“Homestar, it’s my freakin’ house. That, and how else are we gonna ask Paul Revere what his favorite ice cream flavor is?”

“I guess...” Homestar looked fearfully at the house, and if he had lips, Strong Bad would be certain that the brainless moron would be biting his. Strong Bad shook his head in annoyance; Homestar wasn’t physically here, what was he worried about?

“Strong Bad! Look out!”

Strong Bad didn’t have time to fully register Homestar’s warning before he felt something plunge into the back of his left shoulder, the force of whatever object was shoved into him nearly pushing him to the ground, and the sharp pain accompanying that and the feeling of it being pulled out forcing him to cry out in agony.

Strong Bad retreated forwards before turning around. He expected to find of those crazy space clowns, but instead of a clown, he found a familiar furry friend. And at that moment, his eyes widened in horror.

“THE CHEAT?!?”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. There he was, his partner-in-crimes, his co-conspirator, his ol’ buddy. And there he was, holding a pixelated knife with a crazed look in his eyes, a look that held no recognition nor compassion towards who exactly he just attacked.

“Meemehmeh MEH!”

“Wh-wh-what do you mean your a space clown?! You're—You're not a—!"

“Mehmehmee meemeemeh MEHMEH!”

The Cheat lunged at Strong Bad, the latter sidestepping just in time. Strong Bad then picked up The Cheat from behind and just started to shake him up-and-down. The movement was killing his shoulder, but Strong Bad didn’t really care at the moment. Right now, he just wanted answers. But to get them, he needed The Cheat to drop the knife.

Eventually, he spotted the blade fall from The Cheat’s paws, and it flickered a bit before disappearing. Strong Bad stopped shaking the furry thief, spun him around, and glared at the crazed animal.

“What the _crap_ is wrong with you?!?”

“Mehmeemeemeh mehmee mee MEH MEH!”

“Don’t you talk back to me, you freakin’—”

“Wait, Strong Bad!” Homestar finally intervened after the initial shock of the situation finally passed. “Maybe...maybe he thinks he’s someone else! Like—like with Marzipan!”

Strong Bad paused at that statement, and looked into The Cheat’s eyes. His friend, his buddy...he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there and ~~it’s all his fault~~ this game world changed him.

He wouldn’t be able to help him, not like this. Not while he’s trying to kill him.

“...Sorry, The Cheat. This is for your own good!”

Strong Bad tossed the furball up into the air, and just before he hit the ground, Strong Bad timed a kick so that he’d send The Cheat flying off, the latter screaming in the process.

Sighing, the pain in his shoulder kicked-in again, and Strong Bad winced, reluctant to move his left arm. He couldn’t really reach the wound with his hand, so he couldn’t’ cover it. And while he has bandages in his house, his house was _freakin’ haunted_. So not only does he have to find Paul Revere, but he has to find something to help his stab wound and not get killed by the other ghosts. _Great._

“St...Strong Bad?” Homestar reluctantly chimed-in, “If...if it makes you feel any better, um...your shoulder’s not bleeding; it’s just a red marking. Maybe because of this whole game-world thing...”

Strong Bad remained silent, but acknowledged his current companion with a nod. That made some sense, but...it still hurt. ~~In more ways than one.~~

“Um...I’ll watch your back...while we’re inside...”

Homestar’s window moved behind him and the athlete stopped speaking, which was just fine with Strong Bad. His emotions were spiraling out of control, and frankly, he didn’t want to risk it all getting out. He didn’t want Homestar on his case again.

Even if he is one of his only friends left still sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I always wondered why only some characters thought they were different people. And where the crap did The Cheat go after the ghosts vanished anyway? So screw it: Bubs got lucky, Marzipan didn't, The Cheat's gone loco, and there's no blood because video game mechanics are weird.
> 
> Also, I'm _totally_ not dropping minor hints of StrongStar in this fic. Nope. Not at all. I don't know what you're talkin' about.
> 
> Tune-in next time for ghosts and a red abomination!


	4. The Creepy, The Scary, and The Gel-Arshie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See, ghosts are one thing. A red gelatin freakshow with a visible brain is another. Which is worse? Well, you roll that dice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, readers! And...I'm honestly not too proud of this chapter. But I hope you enjoy.
> 
> But just a heads-up: If this chapter seems rushed, that's because it kinda is. When I was typing this out on Microsoft Word, I tried to limit myself to 6 pages at most per chapter. This one went on for seven (12 pt. font), and I felt that was too long.

Light Musket: On.

Front Door: Open.

Shoulder: Hurts.

Homestar: Lookout.

_Here we go._

Strong Bad stepped into his house, closing the front door behind him. He could at least see with the Light Musket now, but it was still very dark otherwise. And something told him that the power was out; that tends to happen when there are ghosts everywhere.

_“LEAVE THIS PLACE!”_

Strong Bad immediately turned his Light Musket towards the voice to find a Redcoat Ghost, only for that ghost to be repelled by the light, moving through the wall while screeching. That screech was to probably alert other ghosts. Oh well.

Strong Bad walked through the kitchen and turned a corner into the hallway, coming face-to-face with a ghost with a blue coat. A Colonial Ghost! On an instinct, Strong Bad pointed the Light Musket at the ghost.

 _“Hey!”_ The ghost exclaimed, holding a pixelated arm in-front of its face, _“Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”_

_Wait, why isn’t it working?_

Strong Bad was about to fire the Musket when he heard Homestar cry out. “Red ghosts, 6 o’clock!”

Pivoting on his heel, Strong Bad fired, causing the two ghosts that were behind him to scatter. Once he was sure they were gone, he proceeded to reload his trusty weapon while Homestar remained on lookout duty.

_“If you believe that weapon will drive away the ghosts for good, you are sadly mistaken!”_

Strong Bad glared at the Colonial Ghost, “We didn’t ask you.”

_“Hear me out! I can help you, but you must help us!”_

“Us? How many of you are there?”

_“There are 3 of us, but we’ve each lost an item within this house! Without it, we cannot leave, and nor will the Redcoats!”_

Strong Bad was more than a little annoyed. Why couldn’t they get them themselves? Then again, if he recalled correctly, Paul Revere was among the Colonial Ghosts within their game, so if he does help...maybe they could trade for info.

“Alright, deal. What’d you lose?”

The ghost cleared its throat, _“I dropped mine into the bay! And then I invented beer, or something.”_

 _...What?_ “Why do you video game types always talk in lame clues? Why don't you just tell me what you're looking for?”

_“More screen time!”_

He couldn’t really argue with that. Well, he could, but he wasn’t in the mood. Time to search around the house.

He began to walk away when he noticed something in his room. Looking in, he saw...a feather? It didn’t sound like something the ghost he talked to lost, but there were other ghosts, so he figured he might as well grab it.

He decided to head upstairs next, figuring that since there was something in his own room, there was probably something in his brothers’ rooms.

After encountering a few more ghosts in-part thanks to Homestar’s help (he had to fire the Musket again), he snuck a peek into Strong Sad’s room. As much as he wanted to trash the place, he was on a mission, he couldn’t be distracted.

Although, seeing Strong Sad anywhere but his room was concer—abnormal. There. That’s a better word.

“Strong Bad! Ghost!”

Strong Bad turned around, Musket pointed, at a ghost that was too close for comfort, driving it away. He shook his head.

_Focus, Strong Bad, focus!_

He gave one last look around before finally seeing...something...on Strong Sad’s table. No, really, he had no idea what it was. But if it’s lying around here, he was probably gonna need it.

After leaving that room and walking down the hallway a bit, he turned into Strong Mad’s room. There was a thing that looked like a box with a line in it (maybe a lantern?) and another Colonial Ghost.

_“Hello there! You are searching for our items, yes?”_

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

_“I heard your conversation downstairs! We all did!”_

_Well, that’s totally not weird._

_“Anyways,”_ the ghost cleared his throat before continuing, _“My single greatest claim to fame’s the fancy way I signed my name!”_

_Signed his name? Does that mean—_

“Oh! You mean the feather?” Homestar butted in.

“Homestar!” Strong Bad interrupted, “You’re supposed to be the lookout!”

“Oh. Wight. My bad!” Homestar’s window turned back around as Strong Bad pulled out the 8-Bit feather and gave it to the Colonial Ghost.

_“You have found it! I am free once again! I am John Hancock! Make sure your family's insured in the event of an emergency.”_

And on that odd note, he vanished into thin air. Strong Bad raised a nonexistent eyebrow. What was that guy, an insurance seller guy or something?

Well, whatever. As he proceeded to leave, he grabbed the 8-Bit object that was in the room and proceeded to return downstairs. Although, before he did, he stopped at the medicine cabinet for some painkillers for his shoulder, which ended up restoring some of his lost HP.

Once he got downstairs (shooting some ghosts on the way), he returned to the Colonial Ghost at the hallway blocking the door.

_“Have you found it?”_

If he remembered the clue correctly, he dropped his thing in the bay...? That didn’t really sound like a lantern, but he also didn’t know what the other thing was.

Well, 50/50 shot, right?

He pulled out the 8-Bit...thing, and the Colonial Ghost immediately took it.

_“You have found my teabag! I am free once again!”_

_It was a teabag? Really? Those existed back in the day?_

_“I am Samuel Adams! Cheers!”_

And there he went, vanishing once more. With the entry to the basement open, Strong Bad proceeded down the steps, only to almost bump into the last Colonial Ghost.

_“Hello there! Have you found my item?”_

“Uh, yeah, I think.” Strong Bad took out the lantern-like object.

_“Hey, great! My lantern! Thanks, man! I'm Paul Revere!”_

_Paul Revere?!_ _Now’s my chance!_ “Hey, I wanna ask you a que—”

_“Yeah, not to be rude, but I gotta split! These British people are coming, and I really should tell everybody about it. Thanks again for the lantern!”_

“No, wa—!”

Upon disappearing, Strong Bad silently swore. The one chance he had to figure it out, and he didn’t even get to ask the question!

“So, uh...” Homestar interrupted, somewhat reluctantly, “Now what?”

As if to answer his question, the lights began to flicker back on.

_“BLIMEY!”_

_“NOOOOOOO!!!”_

_“OH, COME ON! I JUST GOT HERE!!”_

_“SON OF A—"_

Strong Bad and Homestar looked at each other for a moment before the former rushed up the stairs, the latter closing his window.

As soon as Strong Bad reached the main floor, his nonexistent jaw dropped. All of the Redcoat Ghosts were being sucked into his room! After seeing the suction slow down, he cautiously got closer and went in to find that the ghosts were being sucked into the Fun Machine.

_Well, all the better. Time to rub it in!_

“That's right, stupid ghosts, shoo! Go off and show up as unexplained blurs and mysterious photographs or something!”

Homestar quickly popped back in. “Ghost photogwaphy ain't no joke, Strong Bad. You too can take pictures that look like you sneezed on 'em.”

And there he goes again, popping out. It was odd. He was kinda getting used to Homestar popping in-and-out of nowhere.

_Am I starting to like it?_

He mentally slapped himself, remembering his current issue. Paul didn’t answer his question, so that meant the only way he’ll get an answer is if he had see-through red crap. But where would he find that?

_Wait, what’s that red game in the Fun Machine?_

Strong Bad knelt down a bit to take a closer look, and as it turns out, it wasn’t Spirits of ‘76 that was in there (though it probably was earlier). Instead, it was Gel-Arshie’s Pro Fruitboarder, a free (of fun) game he got for sending in a bunch of proofs-of-purchase. He never did play the game, but if there’s one thing he knows, is that the creepy...guy in the game was red and see-through.

_Red and see-through..._

Horror slowly took over him.

_Oh no. I need him to join my party._

* * *

He expected the game to look a lot more...like a game.

But no, instead, he’s in a pitch-black void, complete with a bizarre fruit contraption with boxes labelled “Ammo” and “Fruit Supply.”

“Huh. Weird. I didn’t expect the game to look like...this.”

_**“What’re you doing back here?!”** _

Strong Bad jumped a bit as he turned to his left at the source of the unhinged voice. There he was, Gel-Arshie in all his see-through glory. He could even see the brain. If it were up to him, Strong Bad would’ve bailed right then and there.

But right now, he had to do the _unthinkable._

A deep, tense breath escaped him before he finally got himself to speak. Might as well get it over with.

“I...I need...ugh, this is getting nowhere...IneedyoutojoinmypartysoIcankilladragon!”

Dead silence, save for the machine’s noises, consumed the area…only to be broken apart by Gel-Arshie’s hysterical laugh.

_**“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! You—You think—HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”** _

_Why that little—!_ “What’s so funny?!”

_**“You think I’m gonna LEAVE? Just like THAT? HA! Like THAT’S gonna happen!”** _

“Oh yeah?! I’ll MAKE you leave, then!”

_**“Not unless you get the kill...Kill...KILL SCREEN!”** _

A familiar pop-up athlete appeared next to Strong Bad, who was mildly thankful for such because the Marshie lookalike was freaking him out more than he wanted to admit. “Hey Strong Bad, what’s a kill kill KILL SCWEEN?”

The question was enough to ground Strong Bad back to reality. “Oh, that's when you play a videogame for _so_ long, and get a score _so_ high, and have a life _so_ depressing, that you...break the...video...game...” He trailed off, his head turning to the machine nearby as his head put two-and-two together.

_...Red fruit probably means points, which means—and there’s the machine, which can—_

_Here it goes!_ “...Homestar! Distraction! GO!”

Strong Bad grabbed Homestar’s surprisingly flat window and flung it and Gel-Arshie, both victims crying out in shock as Strong Bad bolted for the controls. He messed around with the lever & slider on the machine quickly while Gel-Arshie shouted some swears and slanders that he paid zero attention to.

_Ammo to Fruit, Easy to Hard...and go!_

He barely had time to jump out of the game before Gel-Arshie got to him.

* * *

He was getting tired of going back and forward.

Strong Bad had managed to run the heck out of the mainframe and over to his house, though in hindsight he wondered why he ran all the way over. Well, didn’t matter now. Right now, he needed to sit down and turn on the Fun Machine.

Upon passing the start-up sequence and checking out the controls, he decided it was time to play. Not that he needed to, probably, considering what he did. And he was right to think that way, because there was red fruit EVERYWHERE.

Until finally, it happened.

The game stopped working. The screen switches to a series of pink text strings flashing, followed by a brief flash of Gel-Arshie's face, and further flashes of both repeating, until—

 _ Holy crap. _ _He’s squeezing out of the TV._

Strong Bad dropped the controller, sat up, and started to back away. He would be asking Homestar for some backup, but considering how Homestar hasn’t spoken to him since he left the game, he assumed the athlete was angry.

Out of nowhere, Gel-Arshie edged forward, prompting Strong Bad to cry out in fear and fall backwards. _**“Hey kids! I’m Gel-Arshie, and I’m in your house!”**_

Strong Bad got back to his feet, backing away once more as the abomination continued, _**“You tired old snacks can—"**_

Suddenly, he disappeared and reappeared behind Strong Bad. _**“AHH! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY LEGS?!?”**_

“AHHHH!” Strong Bad fell again and put his arms up in-front of him, moving them wildly as the red monster began laughing at his own joke. “Make it stop make it stop make it stop!”

_**“Nah! You tired old snacks can go to bed, my fruitactular taste turns everything RED!!”** _

“Just join! Join my party already!!”

_**“Sure thing, kid! I’ll follow you EVERYWHERE!”** _

As Gel-Arshie vanished and Strong Bad slowly pushed himself up, he heard that familiar robot voice in the back of his head:

**GEL-ARSHIE has joined your party!**

Strong Bad, wishing that he didn't have to recruit the...thing, walked out of the room to leave the house, grumbling.

_Man, I hate that...guy!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but I can't be the only one who thinks Homestar's interface is a 2D thing like in DOOM. And Strong Bad yeeting the thing is hilarious in my head for some reason.
> 
> Hm...I wonder what Homestar is doing right now...?


	5. Meanwhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what has Homestar been up to after he got thrown at a red gelatin thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how the tags have "Light Angst"? Heads-up fellas, we about to see some BS go down.
> 
> Also, if this chapter seems a bit shorter than the previous ones, that's because it is. Since Chapter 4 was 7 pages, I made this chapter 5 pages, aaaaannnndddd I just realized that this is the fifth chapter and it has 5 pages. Huh. Unintentional, but welcome.

Homestar turned off his interface and pouted, sitting on the floor. “Stupid Strong Bad, thwowing me like that!”

While it’s not like it hurt or anything, nobody wants a screen full of creepy, and that Gel-Arshie’s face...ugh, just _thinking_ about it creeps him out!

Although, maybe he was overreacting. Strong Bad was the one out in the danger zone, after all.

That, and he doesn’t like the dungeon he’s stuck in. It’s so... _blue_. Like, dark navy blue. And it’s already dark in here, so the colors made it worse. And then there’s the locked wooden door nearby, which he assumed was his only ticket out, but even then, his right ankle and his torso were both chained to the wall. And were dungeons supposed to be cold? ‘Cause _man_ , he was freezing!

And lonely.

 _Very_ lonely.

Homestar sighed, downtrodden. He already missed everyone, even though he could easily talk to Strong Bad at any time. But then there’s Pom Pom, Marzipan, Coach Z...he missed everybody!

And how long had he been in here? He lost track of time a while ago. And he was kinda hungry, but there’s nothing to eat in here. Speaking of here, was there anyone else trapped in here and he couldn’t see them? Nah, the room’s too small for that. Well, actually, the walls reached up really high to the point that he couldn’t see the ceiling beyond the darkness. So, the room was small, but really tall. Why was that?

“(Hello?? Homestar?? Are you actually here??)”

Wait. That voice...That bubbling voice...!

“Pom Pom! Down here!!”

On cue, a yellow-and-orange Pom with a sheathed katana at his side fell from the concealed ceiling, bouncing a couple times before coming to a standstill in front of Homestar. “(Homestar! What happened to you?!)”

“Oh, I woke up here a while ago after I got sucked into a game. I’m a damsel-in-distwess!”

“(A dams—Homestar, that’s not a good thing.)”

“I know, but I think Strong Bad’s supposed to rescue me. So, uh, sorwy if you wanted to do that!”

Pom Pom’s expression changed from shock, to confusion, to annoyance in quick succession. “(Wh—Why does _Strong Bad_ have to rescue you? Out of _all_ people?)”

“I dunno, but that’s what Homsar said...somehow.”

Pom Pom facepalmed, unsure whether Homestar was just having another moment of stupidity or was telling the truth. Meanwhile, Homestar was trying to think of a good way to summarize everything he knew.

Which reminded him of something...

“Pom Pom, what’s the last thing you wemember?”

Pom Pom’s expression became puzzled. “(The last thing I...?)”

“Before evewything turned...weird.”

“(Oh! Err...I saw you while I was on my way to the dojo to train with my katana, and you were in-front of some sort of machine with an arm on it. Which was punching you. I was approaching it, but then there was...a light? Well, the next thing I know, I’m in-front of a giant castle...and after roaming around, I found a secret passage, and here I am.)”

_I guess he was close enough to not change, then, like Bubs..._

“(On that note,)” Pom Pom resumed, “(Are you okay? There were others in this place talking about you being a hostage. And what was all that nonsense earlier about Homsar and Strong Bad?)”

“Um...can you sit down and listen?”

Homestar began to tell his tale with what he was able to remember: He’s a captive, Strong Bad is a hero or something, almost everyone else thinks their someone else, worlds colliding...

By the time Homestar was finished, Pom Pom’s eyes were huge. Which meant either he can’t believe his non-existent ears, or he genuinely doesn’t believe him.

“(...Homestar, normally I wouldn’t believe you, but after all that’s happened today...)”

“You believe me?”

“(I’d be an idiot if I didn’t. But, question; is it possible I can still rescue you despite—)”

_“NOPE!!”_

Homestar and Pom Pom both gasped as, from the concealed ceiling, four space clowns jumped down, surrounding Pom Pom.

_“Ooh! He’s a balloon! This should be FUN!”_

_“Bouncy bouncy!!”_

_“An intruder that’s a balloon?! COOL!” Let's pop him!_

_“We got a new playmate!!”_

Pom Pom immediately got into a fighting stance, expression turning deadly serious. He had seen these 8-Bit hoodlums running around the building causing havoc. Them being clowns, they probably knew how to gang-up, and were _very_ unpredictable. This was gonna be difficult.

_“GET’EM!!!”_

All four clowns charged forward at the Pom, the latter bouncing upwards just in time so that they all collided against one another. Without missing a beat, Pom Pom unsheathed his katana and, as he fell, proceeded to slice his opponents. Three dodged, but one was cut cleanly in half, dissolving into 8-Bits.

_“Joey, NOOOO!!”_

_“Oohohohohoho! This guy is so much FUN!!”_

_“You’re gonna pay for that one, bouncy!”_

The third clown to speak suddenly threw 5 juggling balls at Pom Pom, whose large roundness made it impossible to dodge quickly enough. The balls did bounce back, but the clown simply caught them.

As the second clown began to take out a bag of peanuts, Homestar got over his initial shock, jumped up to his feet, and looked at the first clown, who was pulling out some sort of sci-fi space gun. “Pom Pom, one of them can shoot lasers!”

Pom Pom, taking a mental note of that, sliced the juggling balls that were thrown at him again, and bounced forward, ready to slice. The third clown wasn’t able to dodge in-time, but it bought the second clown time to start throwing stale peanuts at the Pom. The peanuts stuck him, draining his HP, but that didn’t stop him from taking the hits and slicing the clown apart.

“Pom Pom! LOOK OUT!!”

A laser beam shot forward, and Pom Pom was barely able to dodge in time. Three more shots were fired, Pom Pom deflecting them with his katana. Homestar had to duck to dodge the first of the deflections.

Then the clown did something neither of them expected.

It cartwheeled over to Homestar, held him in an 8-Bit grapple, and pointed the gun at his head.

“Waaaahhh!”

“(Wha—?! Homestar!)”

Pom Pom began to panic a bit before turning furious, “(Let him go. NOW.)”

The clown only laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And didn’t stop.

“(If you don’t let him go right now, I swear I’ll—)”

_“NOW!!”_

Out of nowhere, a fifth clown had jumped down and, with a cartoon hammer, smashed Pom Pom to the ground, stunning him. This prompted the first clown to throw Homestar aside and rapidly shoot the Pom alongside the back-up, who kept wailing at him with the giant hammer.

Homestar could only watch as Pom Pom screamed while his Life Bar dropped to zero.

“POM POM!!!”

The two clowns rushed to the collapsing body of his best friend, and more dropped down from nowhere to do the same, one of them holding a device he didn’t recognize.

The clowns all laughed together as they, and Pom Pom, vanished before his eyes via some sort of teleport.

...Homestar hadn’t cried so hard since he last saw Li’l Brudder.

* * *

Strong Bad managed to get back to the mainframe without revealing his initial fear from earlier, but that was mostly because he saw Limozeen’s bus crash into a bush along the way. They were out trying to get it out, but they realized they weren’t getting out without a tow. Homsar arrived then and decided to handle the situation, so Strong Bad was free to leave.

Still, getting to actually meet and talk to Limozeen in-person was all it took for Strong Bad to get his mood up.

But, for some reason, he was finding himself getting worried about Homestar. He hadn’t heard from him in a while.

_Is he okay...?_

Strong Bad quickly shook his head as other thoughts began to pop-up in his head. _What are you doing?! Get a hold of yourself, Strong Bad!_

Pushing that aside, he walked over to the giant code wheel beneath Peasant’s Quest. Looking it over again, he decided to spin the wheels before using...ugh...Gel-Arshie...to reveal the answer.

First, he walked over the Outer Ring of the wheel so that he could focus on Paul Revere’s ghost. And since his ghost was holding the lantern, he moved over to the Middle Ring to spin it so that the lantern was immediately under Paul.

And now...time for the worst part.

“Hey, Gel-Arshie? Gonna need some help here.”

And just like that, the red abomination appeared. _**“Heheh! Step aside, puddin’ snacks! I’m on the loose and I’m bursting with red fruit-like flavor!”**_

The freaky thing began to strain itself and grunt, until the whole wheel was covered in transparent red by his body.

“Finally! I can see the answ—” Strong Bad went dead silent as he read the answer mentally.

_None (lactose intolerant)..._

“I COUD’VE JUST _GUESSED_ NONE THIS ENTIRE TIME?!?!”

“That is correct!”

Strong Bad’s initial frustration was replaced with surprise. Apparently the ‘Copy Protector’ was listening for an answer this entire time. Not that he’s complaining, but _man_ , poor guy waited so long.

“Welcome to the world of Peasantry!”

It was then that the code wheel began to disappear...with Gel-Arshie with it!

_**“Wait! Hold on! I’m stuck! I’m stu—"** _

Strong Bad couldn’t help but laugh as Gel-Arshie finally disappeared. “Hah! No longer will you creep out innocent kids!”

**GEL-ARSHIE has left the party.**

_Good riddance._

After Strong Bad stopped laughing, he looked up to the entrance to Peasant’s Quest. All he had to do was jump in, and he’ll be that much closer to taking out Trogdor, rescuing Homestar, and saving the world.

But as he jumped-in, he couldn’t help but think about the second objective more.

So much for getting his mood up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things. 1) I glossed over the Limozeen part because I don't really like them all that much and I can't write Larry's dialogue for crap. 2) Where was Pom Pom during the actual story? Seriously, he never appeared. So screw it, he's here now, albeit briefly. And 3) I translated Pom Pom because why the heck not?
> 
> Also, RIP Homestar's happiness. Don't worry, he'll get better. Eventaully.


	6. Being the Main Character SUCKS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he continues to make progress in his quest, Strong Bad can't help but notice that everyone, brainglitched or not, is starting to act out-of-character. Even himself. And he _hates_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues! And this chapter, by the way, will absolutely make fun of both me writing these characters and the OoC tag on this very fic.

He’d never thought he’d see the day where he could, for real, step into Peasantry.

And yet here he was, soaking in all of its 8-Bit glory. Fields of green, a nearby lake, a large gathering of rocks that he assumed was actually the Munchox’s cave...this was his dream! It almost made him forget that he had an idiot to rescue, a dragon to kill, and a world to save.

Almost.

Strong Bad shook his head, trying again to push away his worries, particularly the ones about Homestar. He’s just in a dungeon. It’s not like he’s getting into battles or something. He’s fine. Maybe he’s taking a nap, that lucky jerk.

_...So why the crap am I worried?!_

“Strong Bad?”

Speak (or rather think) of the devil, and POOF!

Strong Bad immediately shoved everything in his head aside to turn to his right. He never thought he’d be glad to hear Homestar’s voice spamming his non-existent ears. Normally he’d question why he’d be happy to see _Homestar_ of all people, but right now he didn’t care. He was just happy, so happy that he was smiling.

Only for that smile to fade as he examined his trapped companion.

The normally jolly smile of his was nowhere to be found, instead replaced by a sorrowful frown. What looked to be dry tear stains lined his face and some of his shirt, and his eyes screamed grief. And for some reason, the window itself was cracked, almost like on Homestar’s end the interface was slightly broken.

_What...happened?_

“Did you get into Peasant’s Quest yet?”

And his _voice_...it was hoarse, much like a voice would be after screaming for too long. It was also dead, void of emotion, yet not robotic. Kinda like a...resigned tone, if that made any sense.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, I got in.” Strong Bad couldn’t help but be nervous. This was uncharacteristic of Homestar, and frankly, it was making him uncomfortable.

“That’s cool,” Homestar nodded, his voice seemingly becoming a little more hopeful. “I’m glad.”

Strong Bad was conflicted, wondering whether if he should ask what was wrong or not. He wasn’t good with emotional stuff, but something told him Homestar would feel better if he vented a bit.

 _Well, here goes nothing._ “Homestar? What, uh, what happened to you? Were you crying?”

Dead silence consumed Homestar as he broke eye contact with the wrestle-man, causing Strong Bad to grimace. There was probably a better way to ask the question, but still.

Strong Bad cleared his throat, “I mean, if...if you don’t—”

“Can you pwomise something?”

“Uh...okay...?”

“Please don’t die.”

Another silence overcame the two, Strong Bad in particular trying to figure out why Homestar wanted him to promise something that he wasn’t going to do anyways. But then again, considering Homestar’s current state...Something _really_ _bad_ must’ve happened, right in-front of him.

“I, uh...I-I promise.”

Homestar nodded solemnly, and the interface closed.

Strong Bad let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. Seeing Homestar in that state…it really bothered him. It wasn't because the hero of these types of things are supposed to be attached to the "damsel" in some way? Because if that's true…

“...Man, being the main character SUCKS!”

“I’ll say!”

The unknown voice drew away Strong Bad’s attention from his troubled situation as he turned to the left. He was now face-to-face with the blocky & pixely Rather Dashing, complete with his short pants.

“Wh—?! No way! You’re Rather Dashing!” Strong Bad approached to make further conversation, that way they wouldn’t have to shout at each other.

“Indeed I am!” Rather Dashing did his equivalent of straightening himself slightly, adjusting himself. “As for you...I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh, right. I’m Strong Bad! And I need your help.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I need you to help me find the TrogSword and kill Trogdor. He screwed over my world!”

“Trogdor?! I'm not going anywhere near that dragon! Hasn't anyone told you? He's indestructible! Not even the mighty TrogSword can smite him!”

Strong Bad raised a non-existent eyebrow. “That’s not what _I_ heard. You must’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Well,” Rather Dashing pondered, “I suppose it's possible that I was simply smiting him in the wrong spot. Tales have been told about weak spots in the beast's scaly armor, but if those exist, they are hidden well.”

_When did that technicality exist in this game?!_

“And besides,” Rather Dashing continued, “I’m no longer in the Dragon Slaying business. I’ve shifted my focus to princess saving!”

 _Oh, please tell me you’re not serious._ “Look around, man. Nothing but pixelly peasants in this place.”

“My time will come! Although, I would rather avoid having to rescue ‘her’.”

“Wait— ‘her’ as in quotation marks her?”

Rather Dashing gave his equivalent of a nod, continuing, “Indeed. ‘She’ claims to be an evil wizard as well. But all I truly know is that ‘she’ appears more masculine in appearance.”

Strong Bad tried to soak in that information. A princess? Or a wizard princess? Or just a wizard—ack! His brain hurt!

Well, it didn’t matter now. Rather Dashing wasn’t coming along. But if there’s one thing Strong Bad knew he could do alone...

“Uh, do y’know where I could get the TrogSword?”

“Well, normally it's on display at the Inn, right here in Peasantry. But recently a strange burst of energy swept the sword away to a foreign land of floating platforms and slightly higher resolutions!”

_Oh, that could be anything..._

“Soon after, another stranger looking quite a bit like yourself, visited Peasantry asking each of us for a challenge! I decided to send him on a quest to retrieve the sword.”

“Wait...no! _Stinkoman?!_ My favorite Japanese cartoon video game version of me? I love that guy! Where is he now?”

“Well, I assume he’s still there, for he has yet to return.”

That makes things easier. But if he remembered correctly, Stinkoman’s game was region locked. He’d need Bubs to help with that. Except Bubs was being held captive by Marzipan.

Great. Hit another snag. But hey, maybe he could find something at the Inn, or just nearby.

“Well, before I head out, I’m gonna look around, see if there’s anything useful nearby.”

“Oh! In that case, I heard there’s a helpful item in a crate behind the Inn. But good luck trying to get it open. And watch out for that ‘princess’!”

“Yeah yeah, will do. Thanks!” Strong Bad hurried off...or he would’ve had he not tripped over a square of rocks. With a grunt, he landed face first into the dirt, and grumpily pulled himself up.

“Stupid rocks...” Strong Bad muttered, looking down at the square. But the more he looked, the more out-of-place they appeared. Maybe he should stash them, just-in-case.

Okay, _now_ he hurried off.

* * *

_Are you freakin’ kidding me?_

Strong Bad watched, mouth agape, as peasants ran left and right, all with burninating heads. But Trogdor was nowhere to be seen.

Who _could_ be seen, however, was Strong Sad. Wearing a sparkly, pointed, pixelated pink hat. And his hands were glowing with 8-Bit blue flames, for some reason. And he was standing right in-front of the one path to Trogdor’s Lair.

“Abandon all hope, all ye who approacheth! None shall pass whilist I, the evil wizard Sluushfuund, remain standing!”

No freakin’ way. He’s a princess. But he’s also a wizard? Was he both?! And his name is _Sluushfuund?!?_

Strong Bad would be laughing if he didn’t have a mission to complete. Snickering, he turned away to walk to behind the Inn, and sure enough, there was a crate. Why was a crate in _Peasantry_ , of all places? Well, whatever. At least he knew what to do.

“Level 4 spell of snake summoning!”

Right on cue, the 3 snakes jumped out and placed themselves on the crate. Now for step 2!

“Hey, Snake Boxer! I got some snakes for you to box!”

And once again, right on cue, Snake Boxer appeared and punched the crate. And as the boxer and the snakes returned to whatever void the party remained in, Strong Bad looked into the newly broken crate. There, he found a metallic, grey-black-red, rectangular box with a plus-sign on it. He knew _exactly_ what that was!

“Cool! An all-purpose medkit!”

He quickly took a hold of the valuable item, but as he did, he noticed something under it. That particular something didn’t look familiar; it looked like a large 8-Bit teardrop, colored mostly a deep green, but it had splotches of red in random spots. What was it, a gem?

Well, whatever. If it was in a crate, it was probably useful. He took it. But now, he needed to stop avoiding the issue: he needed Bubs.

As he walked back to the portal, he caught sight of Rather Dashing in a sitting position, holding an orange cube. “What the crap is that?”

“Oh, this?" Rather Dashing turned to him, sounding mildly annoyed, "Well, remember what I said about the ‘princess’? ‘She’ had sent me on a quest earlier to retrieve this item from Munchox the Devourer.”

“So?”

“The reward was to do the quest again.”

_Yikes...a never-ending loop._ “Why not trick ‘her’ with like a bomb or something?”

“A what?”

Strong Bad sighed. “Ugh, nevermind.”

In truth, Strong Bad took a mental note of Rather Dashing’s dilemma. Maybe he could resolve that. Later, of course.

* * *

As soon as Strong Bad jumped back into his world, he heard a cry of frustration and a _very_ uncharacteristic raging voice when it would usually be soothing.

“Why this son of a AaAaAaAaAaAaAaA—!!”

_Oh, that’s probably not good._

Strong Bad ran over to the source of the noise, only to find a smoking Limozeen Bus, a frustrated & screaming Homsar, and a confused Poopsmith with a pixelated hard hat & hammer with an empty bucket next to him.

His footsteps must’ve been louder than he thought, because The Poopsmith turned to him and waved, which caught everyone else’s attention.

“Well all right! Welcome back, Strong Bad!”

Homsar quickly stopped screaming and cleared his throat, “Hello Strong Bad. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Strong Bad nodded, acknowledging them all before asking, “How bad is this going?”

“Well,” Homsar started, “I decided to find the Poopsmith—er, I mean Mista Fixit, to see if he could help. But he has no supplies, so I tried myself. And as you can see...”

The Poopsmith held up a sign with a question mark on it, which he assumed meant that he was asking if he had any supplies.

 _Do I?_ Strong Bad searched through his inventory, but the only thing that could come remotely close were the pebbles...

 _Worth a shot, I guess._ “Would these pebbles work?”

Strong Bad placed the square of pebbles into the bucket, though they promptly disappeared. He would’ve shouted in frustration if The Poopsmith hadn’t immediately picked it up, grab something invisible from the bucket, and started to hammer the bus.

And soon enough, the bus was freed from the bush. Don’t ask the writer why it worked.

“Aw yeah! Way to go!” Larry Palaroncini of Limozeen (who was the only one talking, for some reason) praised Strong Bad and The Poopsmith. “Now we can find us some Babeliens and get a move on!”

 _Babeliens? Maybe..._ “Uh, what type Babeliens are you guys looking for, anyway?”

“Hey man, Limozeen don't discriminate. We'll beam up any type o' lady who wants to PARTAY!”

_That can include Marzipan! YES! I’m a genius!_

The Poopsmith gave a smile and held up a sign saying, “Owe you one.”

Homsar decided to translate, “He’s asking if he could join your party...whatever that means.”

Strong Bad couldn’t help but smile. Everything was looking pretty great so far, and he was all for it. “Hecks yeah!”

And just like that, the bus and The Poopsmith disappeared.

 **THE LIMOZEEN SPACE MACHINE** **and MISTA FIXIT have joined your party!**

_I’m still not used to that, though._

Homsar, seemingly content, gave a smile. “I suppose you know what to do now, then?”

“Yep. Let’s go help Bubs out!”

As the two ran off, Strong Bad couldn’t help but feel just a little better about everything. He was getting closer and closer to Trogdor, and in-turn, closer to getting everything back to normal!

Maybe then everyone will get back in-character.

Maybe then he'll stop having these stupid, freakin' emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the crap do you write medieval speech? Like, I know of thy and thee and thou and "eth", but what to use when?
> 
> Next time, the clock thickens! Er, I mean, the plot ticks! I mean...oh, I give up. Oh well, emotions are gonna happen regardless.


	7. Hopes on the Disappearing Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a time limit sucks. Having emotions sucks. Knowing it's all your fault _SUCKS._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday! I'll explain at the end as to why.
> 
> This is where things are more OoC than before, although it's taken much more seriously this time.

“Finally! Somebody to come help me!”

Strong Bad and Homsar looked up to see Bubs flailing his arms about at the two, ducking as Marzipan threw another crate. The latter, by the way, still had an exaggerated expression of rage on her face and was in no way getting tired out.

“I apologize for failing to rescue you sooner, Bubs,” Homsar began, “but the world’s been in such a mess ever since the light consumed the sky.”

“You tellin’ me that light is why Marzipan went plumb loco balonco?! And the reason why you’re talkin’ normal?!”

“To answer the second question, I just gained the ability to speak your language, so yes. And mostly yes to the first.”

Strong Bad decided that maybe they should continue the conversation once Marzipan was out of the way. “Fly, my hair metal rockers! Be free!”

The Limozeen Bus appeared over Marzipan and Bubs, the latter relaxing and sitting down for a bit.

Larry spoke upon seeing Marzipan, “Moderately hot Babelien off the port bow!”

As the bus pulled her in with the tractor beam, Strong Bad considered if he should’ve told them that she was the same person who wrote—and sang—the “Limozeen...Is Not Very Nice” song. And was also throwing crates out of nowhere.

Well, he decided, it was too late now, given the crashing he heard coming from the inside as the bus shakily flew away.

“Oh crap! It's that crazy chick from the Battle of the Bands! Ow! Stop throwin' those crates, pretty mama! Ow!”

**THE LIMOZEEN SPACE MACHINE has left your party.**

_That sucks. Oh well._

Bubs sighed, happily and relieved, before cheering, “Thought she’d never leave!”

“There you go, Bubs,” Strong Bad spoke up, “Now how about you come down and help us?”

“Sure thing! But, uh...” Bubs hesitated, looking off towards the horizon.

“What?”

“I think you should see this. Get up here.”

Strong Bad _was_ going to try and jump, but he started to float alongside Homsar (probably being _caused_ by Homsar), soon being placed next to Bubs facing the same direction as him.

Right before his eyes, slowly but surely, far off in the horizon, the world was dissolving into the sky as 8-Bits.

If his face were capable of doing so, Strong Bad’s would be going sheet white. “...Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

The three then gathered by the Trogdor machine after a tense, silent walk over to it. Homsar decided that, while Bubs attempts to fix what he can of the machine, he’d give a summary of the recent going-on’s.

Meanwhile, however, Strong Bad’s mind was quickly overflowing with questions as he sat down next to the machine, looking down at himself. What was all of that? Was the world ending? Does he have a time limit? If so, did he already run out of it? How much did he have left?

Was he...Were they all gonna die?

“Um, Strong Bad...?”

Strong Bad slowly turned to his left, turning his head up. And as he thought, Homestar was there.

“What’s going on out there?”

Strong Bad hesitated before answering, “I think we’ve got a time limit.”

“Time limit?”

“The world might end if I screw this up.”

Homestar’s jaw dropped, eyes going wide. Which, Strong Bad thought, was probably the tamest reaction he could’ve had. But it didn’t change the silence that overcame them.

Homestar did finally speak up, though. “Once you get to the mainfwame, I...we should pwobably talk.”

_Oh crap. Say no say no say no say no say no—_

“Yeah, sure.” _Crap!_

As Homestar disappeared, Strong Bad stood-up to check on Bubs progress, the latter starting to stand up straight.

Bubs turned to Strong Bad, looking a bit cheerier. “Sorry ‘bout not bein’ able to fix this whole thing, but I _did_ make it so that you can play whatever game you want, even those crazy foreign-type games!”

Strong Bad nodded, pleased, but still distracted by the recent turn of events. With all the new info, he really just wanted to get a move on.

Bubs must’ve noticed, because his expression changed into something akin to worry and understanding. “...Homsar gave me the rundown. I get it.”

His expression became more comforting, somehow, as he continued, “The world may be endin’ but from the looks of it, we got plenty of time. Don’t go losin’ hope yet!”

Homsar nodded with a reassuring smile, and added, “It may be easier said than done, but know that you are not alone. You have allies.”

_Allies, huh..._

Strong Bad nodded, feeling a little better. Not quite there, but at least his nerves weren’t going haywire. “Yeah...yeah, you’re right.”

Bubs gave a wink, “We sure are! Now get in there and show that dragon who’s boss!”

Deciding not to mention that he hasn’t seen Trogdor since Strong Badia, Strong Bad did just that. But once he did, Bubs turned to Homsar and said, “So, uh...any idea where that space bus went? I wanna get me some hot Babeliens!”

The eldritch misspelling could only sigh in exasperation.

* * *

Strong Bad sat down on the invisible-but-walkable floor of the mainframe, sighing. He can’t believe he agreed to this. Why did he agree to this? Why didn’t he just say “later” or some crap? Or even a “no”? Why didn’t he say no?!

A pop-up sound rang out, and Homestar was now in-front of him. But he didn’t say a word.

He _did_ look uncomfortable, though.

_He must be regretting this just as much as I am..._

There was silence apart from the beeps-and-bops around them in the mainframe, neither one willing to say the first word.

But finally, Homestar got the courage to speak. “Are you...worwied?”

Strong Bad turned away, frowning. He _hated_ doing this type of thing. He wasn’t good with this emotional crap, that was Strong Sad’s thing! But he’s not here, and now he’s been put on-the-spot. Now he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

“...Yeah. I-I mean, not a—not a whole lot, but yeah.”

Lying through non-existent teeth. He’s no stranger to it, but doing so now felt...wrong, somehow. This wasn’t normal for him. Maybe because he was tense? Then again, _that_ wasn’t normal of him either.

_What the crap is wrong with me?_

The newfound silence that Strong Bad took advantage of to think was interrupted by Homestar, whom spoke with quiet sorrow, “I think Pom Pom is dead.”

Strong Bad’s head shot up to look at Homestar. That...was something he didn’t expect to hear. Not that it didn’t explain things, but still.

“He twied to wescue me, but...some space clowns came and...and I couldn’t do anything and...!” It was then that Homestar started to cry, his sobs erasing the rest of his sentence. He tried to say more, but it was impossible to understand.

If he had actual lips, Strong Bad would be biting his lower one. What was he even supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to comfort him? Try to cheer him up? Question him? What?!

Not knowing the best way to handle the situation, Strong Bad forced himself into silence, deciding that just being there could help. Could, not would; he had no idea if it would.

But still, what the crap? Nobody ever said anything about dy—

_...Wait._

_“Like I said, this isn’t a game. And even if it is, our life is very real.”_

Slowly but surely, reality started to sink in. He thought it did earlier, but apparently not.

This wasn’t a video game. This was real-life, gone all 8-Bit. People could still be saved during a small timeframe, but people could also die. There’s no extra life, either. Once you’re dead, you’re _dead_.

And the worse part that he realized? The part he'd been denying this whole time?

This was...This was all...

"...y fault."

Homestar's sobs were turning down a bit, watery eyes looking at Strong Bad in confusion. "Wh...What did you—?"

"I SAID IT'S MY FAULT OKAY?!?!" Strong Bad raised his voice and shouted at the floor, refusing to look at Homestar. The latter, by the way, jumped back both in-person and on the interface.

The wrestle-man hopped to his feet and began to pace the mainframe, gesturing with his arms as he continued, "You'd think that crashing against one of your favorite games and bringing it to life would be awesome, but _noooo!!_ Instead, you end up starting a freakin' sequence to the apocalypse!!"

His voice began to shake.

"I didn't ask for Trogdor to burninate Strong Badia!! I didn't ask for my house to get haunted!! I didn't ask to be the guy to rescue somebody!! I didn't ask for people to start dying!! I didn't ask for the world to end!! I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!!!"

He stopped pacing and fell backwards into a sitting position, allowing Homestar to get a good glimpse at Strong Bad's face. His green eyes were glistening with tears that were falling freely. His expression was an unholy mix of rage and despair, his rectangle mouth quivering as his eyes were unfocused.

"This sucks!! This just...just..."

He buried his face in his hands, doubling over in an attempt to hide himself, hide his tears, hold away his coming sobs.

Not that it worked.

Homestar listened carefully, his own eyes leaking again. He doesn't remember Strong Bad ever being this... _open_...with people before, let alone to him. It would've been a somewhat welcome, out-of-character change had it not been for the current situation.

But such circumstances also gave him some perspective.

Homestar knows that his current situation isn't a good one, but in a different way, Strong Bad's wasn't great either. He's the one out there doin' stuff. And if he screws-up, _everyone_ goes down with him.

Having all that pressure on your shoulders must hurt.

And it didn't help that, at least according to him, he was at fault for causing it.

But what could he do? How would he be able to motivate him?

Man, if only he knew a motivational speaker. They’d probabl—

_Hold on. Motivational...?_

_Maybe..._

Nervously, Homestar broke the silence that had consumed the duo, “...Hey, uh, Strong Bad?”

Strong Bad didn't respond. But he had to keep trying, keep going.

“Do you, uh, wemember what I said before? Back before you entered the game?"

Strong Bad moved his hands and slowly looked up, albeit only with his eyes; his head was still cast downwards a bit. But it was enough of a response.

“Y'know, uh..." _Cwap, how'd it go again?_ “The, uh...the thing about the ball?”

Strong Bad finally sat up, looking more confused if anything. Or maybe annoyed. But whatever, keep remembering!

“And dweam living? And, uh...Self beli—OH I WEMEMBER NOW!”

All of a sudden, Homestar’s demeanor completely changed, eyes widening as he and his interface popped-up in realization.

“Be the ball! Live your dweams! Believe in yourself!”

Strong Bad blinked a couple of times in surprise, not expecting the sudden pop-off...nor what followed.

Homestar began to hop around in an attempt to cheer-up his friend, "You wanna fix evewything, you gotta waAHH!"

The chain stuck to Homestar's ankle tangled his legs a bet, causing him to topple over comically.

Yet all he could do was laugh. Laughter was the best medicine, and honestly? Just remembering something motivational that he said was helping him feel better, even if his leg now kinda hurt because of chains.

As for Strong Bad, who watched the interface turn this way and that in comedic effect, he couldn’t help but laugh and smile, his own sadness quickly fading as Homestar perked up to his old self.

And somehow, this time, he couldn’t care less if it wasn’t normal of him to do so.

Homestar eventually got back onto his feet, causing the interface window to stop bouncing around. He smiled as Strong Bad wiped the tears off his face, chuckling.

"Thanks Homestar," Strong Bad found himself quietly saying, but quickly correcting with, "You're a moron for falling over though."

"Sure!"

Strong Bad shook his head in bemusement before turning to the entrance to Stinkoman 20X6. “Alright, then let’s get inside this game and grab that TrogSword!”

“Yeah! And THEN we’ll get some payback!”

They haven’t forgotten the seriousness of the situation, but just from looking at one-another before they took their leave, both could tell one thing:

They can keep going. And they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the fic was pretty hard to write. On the draft of the Microsoft Word, I looked it over and went "Wait. This looks awful." So I decided to take an off-day to rewrite it on here.
> 
> Next time, things go back to being relatively normal. Or as normal as a Mega Man knock-off can get.


	8. The One Where There's Some Anime Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never thought that his counterpart would be such a freakin' jerk. Now how to get to the sword...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't think of a good title for this part of the fic, so I went with a cop-out. So sue me (don't literally do this).

“Step aside! Coming through! Move outta line!”

Strong Bad pushed himself past the two extra lives after realizing that he was stuck in the game’s status bar. Which, considering that he could see the TrogSword up in the level currently being played, _really_ sucked.

Speaking of the level, it was a wreck! Ladders were broken, a bridge was out, and he was pretty sure that there used to be more buildings in the background.

 _That shockwave must've hit the videogames harder than I thought,_ Strong Bad thought to himself, frowning. And it didn’t help that this was supposed to be Level 1.1. Y’know, the _first freakin’ level._

**“Hey bad guys, check out these moves! Hiyayayayayayaya!”**

Strong Bad looked up to see the main, blue-haired Japanese cartoon himself, Stinkoman, with a cocky grin on his face and punching like a madman. In-front of him, on a different platform, was a brown, immobile enemy shooting at him. Above him was a blue grabby robot moving left-to-right in a pattern.

From the looks of everything, nothing was being accomplished on either side, and no progress was being made.

_I’m gonna be waiting here for a while, aren’t I? Wait, that’s a bad thing!_

His world was currently dissolving into 8-Bits. Slowly, yes, but it’s still dissolving. He didn’t have time to wait around!

But how would he make progress himself?

He turned to his right at the extra lives. They’ve been here longer; maybe they’d know something? Or maybe he can grab the current Stinkoman’s attention via conversation?

He decided to test out the first idea first, clearing his throat before speaking, “So, uh...what do you guys do while you're down here waiting to get in the game?”

One of the extra lives turned to him with a smile, **“I am studying the moves of Stinkoman-sensei to achieve great victory!”**

The other extra life turned as well, a little less enthusiastic, **“Me too, but sensei is strong. We’ll be here for a while.”**

 **“But that means we’ll learn more!”** The first life said, which seemed to cheer up the second one.

**“Oh yeah! Awesome! Hey, you wanna try out what we learned?”**

**“Yeah!”**

It was then that the two extra lives began a spar fight, Strong Bad looking on in both amusement and confusion as the two grunted at every punch they took and hit.

_I didn’t even have to say that much...well, works for me!_

**“Hey, be quiet down there!”**

Strong Bad turned his gaze up at the currently playing Stinkoman, who was now looking down at him with slight irritation yet was multitasking via playing the current level, which was impressive.

**“I'm right in the middle of a CHALLENNNNNNNNNGGGGGGEEEEE!!!”**

_I got his attention now!_ “Hey, Stinkoman!”

 **“Whaddaya—”** The totally-not-an-anime character’s eyes widened with surprise, interrupting himself. “ **Whoa, an extra life! I must be even more bodadical than I thought!”**

“Yeah yeah sure, let’s go with that. Hey, how do I get up there? I need that sword!”

Stinkoman proceeded to rapidly stomp on the floor of his platform, laughing as he did. Once he stopped laughing and stomping, he pointed at our favorite wrestle-man with a cocky grin.

**“No way! You couldn't handle that sword! I'm gonna get it for myself, just as soon as I'm finished toying with these guys!”**

“But if I don’t get the sword—”

**“Too bad! Ha ha ha! You're stuck down there until I get killed! And these guys are too slow and predictable to be any real challenge!”**

As Stinkoman laughed, Strong Bad could feel his blood begin to boil. Man, no _wonder_ why he was named Stinkoman!

_Ugh, I better stop talking to him while I still think he’s somewhat cool._

Strong Bad grumbled and shook his head. At this rate, he was basically stuck down here forever, and there was no chance that Stinkoman would willingly die, let alone give him the TrogSword. But what else could he do?

The last options that were available to him were to either cooperate with the enemies that were present, or get up by force.

Well, might as well talk first before trying anything. But how would he be able to do it? It’s not like the enemies could suddenly get more powerful, and even if they could, Stinkoman was dodging them anyways.

Actually, Stinkoman said something about them being too slow and predictable...maybe he could use that to his advantage. But who was doing what?

From the looks of it, the shooter...What was he called again? Brown-something? Oh wait, Browntant was its name. Well, slow can’t be said about his movement; he wasn’t moving at all! But then there are the shots...

“Yo, Browntant!”

 **“What? Who said that?”** A faux-African American accented voice responded to him, though the robot didn’t move.

“Down here!” Strong Bad waved his arms around to try and get its attention, but he really couldn’t tell it was working since the bot had no face.

**“You fellas can talk?”**

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. Hey, did you know that Stinkoman makes fun of you behind your back?”

**“Of course I know! I mean, have you listened to the guy for more than ten seconds? He's got the brainpower of a first-grader at naptime!”**

Strong Bad couldn’t help but snicker and shake his head. _I gotta remember that one!_

 **“But,”** Browntant continued, **“I’m a sucker for gossip! What’s he sayin’ about me?”**

“He said you were too slow.”

**“What, you mean like movin’ too slow, or shootin' too slow? 'Cause if it's movin' too slow, well, then yeah I-I agree with him. I basically just sit here and shoot!”**

Strong Bad grew mildly irritated. Apparently he was slow in getting to the point, too! “Then just shoot faster!”

 **“Huh. I guess I can give that a shot,”** Browntant paused for a moment before finishing, **“No pun intended.”**

Strong Bad nodded to himself as he noticed the rate of fire change. Which was great, but that only meant that Stinkoman needed to jump more often. He needed the blue pinchy robot to help, whom was going back-and-forth in a repetitive pattern.

“Hey, Pinchy!”

 **“Wh—Hey, you aren't supposed to talk down there!”** A voice that can only be described as having a Gilbert Gottfried-esque accent responded to him, continuing, **“And don't call me Pinchy! I have a name, y'know! Chorch!”**

“Yeah yeah, forget that, I got somethin’ important to say!”

**“Yeah? Like what?”**

“Stinkoman told me earlier that he thinks you guys are wussies!”

While there wasn’t a face to express it, Chorch was clearly peeved, his voice raising, **“What?! Ooh, when I get a hold a' him, he'll wish he was never born! What did he say, exactly?”**

“He says you’re too predictable.”

**“Seriously?!”**

“His words, not mine,” Strong Bad shrugged and, deciding to egg Chorch on further, continued, “And I can’t help but agree, you goin’ back-and-forth all the time.”

**“Awwww, man, now I won't be able to stop thinkin' about it! Well, maybe if I change up my moves a bit...”**

Chorch started to move up-and-down, and then from side-to-side. Strong Bad found the latter movement more impressive, considering that this game was a 2D-Platformer.

 **“Yeah! Take that, pattern recognition!”** Chorch was definitely pleased, and just as Browntant did, began to fully incorporate the newfound tactics.

Strong Bad then took a look over at Stinkoman, and gave his equivalent of a smirk as he noticed how much his blue-haired counterpart was struggling.

 **“Hey, whaaaat is going on here?!”** Stinkoman was narrowly dodging Chorch while starting to stumble at dodging the faster shots from Browntant.

**“Too predictable, huh?”**

**“And too slow?”**

**“Well, how do ya like us now?!”**

Strong Bad laughed as Stinkoman began to panic, the latter shouting, **“Hey! You—You guys are cheating! No fair! Chea—!”**

 _WHAM!_ Stinkoman’s head came into direct contact with Chorch, causing the screen to go black, the Energy Bar on the status bar to go empty, and Stinkoman to fall.

**“You made my stummy huuurrrt!!”**

As the screen returned to normal, Strong Bad spawned onto Stinkoman’s platform with the portal following suit, causing him to dance with joy. “Yes!!”

Not paying attention to him, Browntant and Chorch were having a conversation of their own.

**“Hey, that was pretty good! Did you alter your pattern? I didn't know you could do that!”**

**“Yeah, well how about you, huh? I saw that rapid-fire action! Pretty sweet!”**

**“Thanks! Hey, you wanna take off early? Get some Cold Ones?”**

**“Abso-freakin’-lutely!”**

After that totally not ripped right from the actual game conversation, Chorch picked up Browntant and flew off, leaving Strong Bad alone within the broken level.

But if things are broken, then there’s one guy who can fix it all!

“Okay, Mista...Fit it!”

The Poopsmith appeared in-front of Strong Bad, took a handful of invisible crap out of it, and began to work his magic. And he didn’t even leave after fixing one thing; he kept going, going down the newly fixed ladder to the bridge, which he promptly fixed as well.

As Strong Bad followed close behind, he couldn’t help but take pride in himself. After all, his intellect was what really got him up here in the end. He’s a freakin’ genius!

By the time he stopped mentally praising himself, the Poopsmith had run off to build the left-most ladder, which seemed to go nowhere...but he kept building as he went up endlessly, though he seemed to be enjoying himself.

**MISTA FIXIT has left the party.**

_Aw crap. At least he’s happy._

Turning away from the supertall ladder, Strong Bad couldn’t contain his excitement as he climbed up the ladder to the TrogSword. At least, after so much convoluted crap, he could finally get that freakin’ sword!

Jumping up to the platform, Strong Bad smiled triumphantly as he took the sword. “AH HA!”

 _SWISH! SLASH! SWIPE!_ “By the power of EGA! Extended memory management! Raster interrupt 6! Hold and Modify! And the mighty Mode 8!”

Raising the sword up high to reflect the sunlight (or whatever), Strong Bad stated the obvious, “The power of the TrogSword is MINE!!”

A familiar pop-up noise rung out beside him as he put the sword away. “Hooway!! You got the sword! Now you can slay that dwagon!”

“More importantly, I'll be able to keep _you_ from popping up all the freakin’ time.”

“Hey!”

Strong Bad laughed as he began his trek to the portal back, Homestar huffing but soon smiling as well. But as they got back into the Mainframe, Strong Bad remembered something: Strong Sad was still guarding the pathway.

“Oh, right. Crap.”

“What’s up?”

“Strong Sad’s guarding the path to Trogdor’s Lair.”

Homestar lightly smacked his head on the interface, which was probably the equivalent of a facedesk. “Aw cwap! Is there a way awound him?”

Strong Bad was about to say no, but then another memory revealed itself: Rather Dashing had been sent on a quest for Strong Sad to get an orange cube from Munchox, that scorpion monster. But the reward was to do it again.

He also remembered suggesting that he should trick the princess/wizard/brother/sister with something. But it’d have to be the same shape. Where would he even look for something like that anyways?

“Hey, Strong Bro! Look over here!”

Strong Bad turned to where Homestar was and saw a portal to a game he hasn’t entered yet, a description board next to it. He walked over to take a closer look.

“The Videlectrix Halfathlon. Featuring the finest top-tier Soviet athletes that Videlectrix could afford to license.” _Sounds half-athed, all right._

“Can we go in there? _Please??”_

“Wha—Why?! We’re kinda on a time limit here!”

“Because that looks like the Race Track in the picture!”

The Race Track and the Gym...why would he go there? The only person he figured would be there apart from Coach Z, Homestar, and Pom Pom was—

Strong Bad’s eyes widened in realization. _Strong Mad! Maybe he could help!_

“Okay, fine. We’ll go in.”

“Hooway!”

As they took their leave, neither of them noticed that the mainframe around them was a lot quieter than usual.

Nor did they notice how the way back home seemed to g̹̰͖̰̗̬͉̠̃̉̑̋̌̅̕l͕̩͔̩͙̋̇̌̄̄̊͋͢͟i̸̥̤͉̞͕̾̌́̽͑͝͝t͓͎̠͈͔̾̀̑̑̒͠ͅc̡̢̧̬̪̣̝̫̄̐͋͒̾͘͢͠h̴͓̜̖̠͓͒͋͒͑̀̀͘͟͢͢ o̴̡̨̙̞̻̗͎̳̲̍̐̈́̂͌͑̄͘͟ǘ͇̩͚̖͈̪̱̹̲̊͒͛̓͂̊ͅt̨̛͎̞͉̱̓̒̉̇̋ sporadically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout the fic, you may have noticed that I made some jabs at myself. It was funny on-paper, but now I dunno.
> 
> Next time, I google translate at least two lines and Strong Bad dies!...Wait, _**WHA--**_


	9. Half Dead at the Halfathlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You wanna die right, you gotta do everything yourself..." -Strong Bad, in-game, upon touching the Checkpoint at a certain point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I purposely used google translate for a line of dialogue or two, for 2 reasons. 1) I don't know Russian, and 2) Videlectrix sounds like a company that would do that.

**'CONTINUE?'**

_Who said that?_

Strong Bad would be paying attention to how the Race Track had changed if it weren’t for a familiar robotic voice to his right. He could’ve sworn it was the same voice he hears every time something joins—or leaves—his party. So why was it outside of his head?

He turned to find a 3-person mob of 8-Bit scorpions circling around an unconscious(?) Coach Z, who’s Life Bar was empty. Below the Life Bar, an orange “CONTINUE?” floated, with a countdown of what seemed to be 10 minutes, but going down by the second.

“Oh my cwap! Coach Z!” Homestar appeared, panicked out of his mind, “You gotta save him!”

If it weren’t for the fact that death was a very real possibility, Strong Bad would’ve said no. But now? Well, things wouldn’t feel quite the same without Coach Z. That, and he didn’t want Homestar going berserk on him.

Strong Bad carefully approached, noticing how the 3 scorpions paid zero attention to him. Why was that? Did Coach Z tick them off? Or maybe—

_Think about it later. Time limits, man!_

Strong Bad, recalling that he picked up a medkit earlier, pulled it out. But before he could open it, it began to glow green. This glow then transferred itself to Coach Z, and when it did, the “CONTINUE?” suddenly disappeared, and Coach Z’s Life Bar was completely filled up.

Coach Z, without a word (oddly enough), jumped back to his feet and threw a large, brown ball over what Strong Bad noticed was an obstacle course of sorts. The scorpions quickly followed, ending up stuck in the chicane that was situated in-between a pool of lava and an odd-looking ice level with 8-Bit penguins. As the ball landed, it broke apart into a cube right next to an 8-Bit trophy.

“Rad, chto vse zakonchilos'!” Coach Z finally spoke, dusting himself off. He then turned to Strong Bad and Homestar (the former putting the medkit away), seemingly grateful. “Spasibo za moye spaseniye!!”

_...What did he just say?_

“Coach Z!! You’re alive again!!” Homestar’s window bounced around, which Strong Bad assumed was Homestar jumping for joy. He must’ve completely ignored the fact that Coach Z was _speaking_ _an entirely different language from normal._

“Тrener Z? Snova? Podozhdi, ty voobshche kto? YA ne dumayu, chto videl tebya zdes' ran'she.”

Homestar finally caught-on, and gave a look of confusion. “Um...can you speak English?”

Some sort of realization must’ve slapped him in the face, because Coach Z cleared his throat multiple times before speaking again. “Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t realize you didn’t know Russian.”

Strong Bad’s nonexistent jaw dropped, both in shock and in exasperation. Like, he figured out that Coach Z probably thought he was someone else, but still. Coach Z. Speaking _Russian._ Like, _wow_.

Coach Z cleared his throat again and repeated, “Anyways, I asked who you were. You don’t look like praticipants.”

Strong Bad shook himself out of his initial state and responded, “Uh, I’m Strong Bad. And this armless beanpole here is Homestar.”

“I’m not a fweakin’ beanpole!” Homestar shouted, irritated, but soon relaxed and pridefully said, “But I _am_ armless.”

“Oh! Well, nice to meet ya both! I’m Coach Zakharovich! And thanks for the save!”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

All of a sudden, the doors to the inside of the locker room were shoved open by two very large arms, revealing a familiar, large lug with a blue spandex singlet.

_Brother Graw Mad!!_

Had Strong Bad not have known that it likely wasn’t really Strong Mad, he’d be overjoyed at the sight. Even then, Strong Bad felt relieved at least, knowing that Strong Mad was at least alive.

“Oh, hey there Putchnya Shotski! Done with your break?”

_Putchnya Shotski? What kind of name is that?!_

“I PUT SHOT!! I WIN TROPHY!!”

“I’ll...take that as a yes!”

As Strong Mad walked over to a pile of metal balls nearby, Strong Bad contemplated getting his help (by winning the trophy, he thought) when Homestar excitedly said, “Oh boy oh boy! Strong Bad, I'm too embarwassed. Could you get me an autogwaph?”

“What? Why?”

“He’s the honorwable mention shotput semi-finalist of the 1982 Winter Olympics! He's my gweatest sports hero...that Videlectwix could afford to license!”

Strong Bad’s eyes went flatter than a deflated balloon as he shook his head, prompting Homestar to sadly hang his own and disappear.

The boxing glove-handed man then turned to Coach Z, intent on getting info. “So, how does this ‘Halfathlon’ work, anyway?”

“It's easy! Ya just gotta activate that first checkpoint, swing over the lava pit, navigate the chicane through the angry scorpions, get through the arctic blasts and killer penguins, and pick up the trophy! If you can get that trophy back to the checkpoint, you win!”

“Uh, win what?”

“You just win!”

Strong Bad shrugged, even if he was a little disappointed that there was no real reward. But hey, whatever can get Strong Mad to help out! He walked over to the large, metal ball with green, digital letters that spelled “CHECKPOINT” on its center black line and touched it.

**CHECKPOINT!! INVENTORY RECORDED!!**

“Oh for—this too?!” Strong Bad grumbled, trying to sound annoyed to cover-up how he was kinda spooked by the voice speaking out. He shook his head, proceeding onwards to the lava pool, a vine coming down from...the sky or something when he did.

He jumped up and held onto the vine, which proceeded to swing forward, allowing Strong Bad to land onto the chicane. “And he sticks the landing!”

Noting how the scorpions gave zero craps about him, Strong Bad didn’t have to put in much work to get past them, and soon he encountered the obligatory ice level with the unmoving penguins…whose heads could clearly function as platforms.

 _ Killer penguins _ _, huh? Yeah right._

Jumping on each penguin finally allowed him to reach the trophy, which he quickly grabbed. “That was easier than I thought.”

Before he went back, though, he looked down at the now-cube-shaped scorpion food. A cube of that size...

_“Well, remember what I said about the ‘princess’? ‘She’ had sent me on a quest to retrieve this item from Munchox the Devourer.”_

_“So?”_

_“The reward was to do the quest again.”_

_That could work as a way to trick Strong Sad!_

Strong Bad was about to pick it up when Homestar appeared, confused. “Hey Strong Bad, what are you doing?”

“Getting the cube-shaped scorpion food. I need it to trick Strong Sad.”

“Okay, but wouldn’t the scowpions sting you?”

Strong Bad didn’t want to admit it, but that was a good point. If he tried to go over to the chicane with the food, the scorpions would swarm him...maybe even kill him. The checkpoint would bring him back, yeah, but without the scorpion food and the trophy.

“True...I’ll see what else I can do.”

Strong Bad nodded to his friend, who promptly disappeared, and proceeded to do the course backwards without the food. As soon as he landed, he noticed that Coach Z was nowhere to be seen. Probably went inside or something. Which was great, because it was possible that the idea he just had would probably count as breaking the rules (not that that was new for him).

He instead walked over to Strong Mad, who was throwing the metal put shots, and took out the trophy. “Alrighty, Comrade Shotski. On behalf of the Videlectrix Gaming Association, I present to you this trophy for Superior Halfathery in the Videlectrix Halfathlon.”

On cue, Homestar reappeared and began to sing a fanfare while Strong Mad joyfully took the trophy. “PUT SHOT SHOT PUT TROPHY!!! SOLZHENITSYN!!! GLASNOST!!!”

“Yeah yeah, ich bin ein donut. Are you joining my party or what?”

“DA!! DA!!”

Strong Mad vanished, and Strong Bad mentally prepared himself for the inevitable.

 **PUTCHNYA SHOTSKI** **has joined your party!**

_That’s still a stupid name._

As Homestar vanished, Strong Bad turned back to the Checkpoint Ball and, while talking in a fake Russian accent, called out, “Okay, Comrade, let's see vhat you can do...”

Strong Mad appeared, but looked rather puzzled. “PUT SHOT?”

“Hey, it's round, isn't it? Now get putin'!”

“PUT SHOT SHOT PUT!!” Strong Mad picked up the Checkpoint and threw it across the course, narrowly missing the scorpion food (and narrowly avoiding giving Strong Bad a heart attack as a result).

As he vanished, Strong Mad shouted, “ZHIVAGO!!”

_Oh, he’s gonna do that every time he throws that thing, isn’t he?_

Strong Bad grimaced for a moment before quickly going back through the obstacle course. He’d only done it twice before now, but this was starting to become muscle memory.

Once he landed, he carefully picked up the cube of scorpion food, not wanting to ruin its perfect shape. Any screw-up and Strong Sad wouldn’t buy it.

Strong Bad decided to turn to the scorpions to see how they were doing, and wasn’t all that surprised to see them excitedly jumping around. “Man, those scorpions are really homed in on this stuff.”

Putting away the food, he mentally prepared himself again as he touched the Checkpoint Ball.

**CHECKPOINT!! INVENTORY RECORDED!!**

Shaking his head, Strong Bad stepped away and said aloud, “Shotski! I need you to throw this again!”

And just like last time, Strong Mad appeared and, picking up and throwing the Checkpoint Ball, shouted, “BREZNEV!!”

As soon as he disappeared, Strong Bad looked over at the scorpions, dejected. He knew what his plan consisted of, but he didn’t really take into account of how much it was likely to hurt. But this was probably the only way he was gonna pull this off.

_This is gonna suck._

Taking a deep breath, he hopped along the heads of the penguins...

...and as soon as he landed, the scorpions swarmed him.

Holy _crap_ , he knew it was gonna hurt, but being stung by venomous stingers as they hopped around him and got just about every part of his body apparently hurt _a lot more_ than he thought. And to think, there were only 3 of them.

Survival instincts and adrenaline kicked-in, and as he cried out, he started to flail his arms around in a vain attempt to shoo them away and told his legs to run for the vine. Maybe if he can get to the vine in-time, he—!

Stumbled.

His legs went numb, his vision went blurry, and he _stumbled_.

He was getting stung repeatedly again. But now it was hard to breathe, he twitched randomly, and he was pretty sure his heart wasn’t supposed to beat so quickly.

But...it didn’t even hurt that much anymore...

If anything, he...

...was just...

...tired...

...

...

...

“Strong Bad!”

Strong Bad inhaled sharply as he snapped back into reality, a gloved hand quickly going over his chest to make sure he was still alive, despite knowing he was now standing on his own two feet.

“Phew! Looks like he’s alright! I thought I’d have to call a medic!”

Strong Bad blinked a few times and looked around. Homestar had appeared, looking relieved. Coach Z was there as well, and Strong Mad was looking off into the distance for some reason.

“Whoa,” Strong Bad began, “I could swear I was just stung to death by lo-res scorpions.”

“Oh, you were,” Homestar responded, “but the checkpoint brought you back to life in an instant!”

“Cool, cool. Good to know.” _And I still have the scorpion food, too!_

Coach Z nodded at them before turning to Strong Mad, puzzled. “Shotski, what is it?”

“DANGER!!”

Everyone turned to where Strong Mad was pointing, only to gasp as they saw the surroundings dissolve rapidly before their eyes. And apparently, it functioned like a tsunami, because a wall of dissolve was moving in fast!

“HOLY GORSH!!”

“HOLY CRAP!!”

“AHHHHHH!!”

Coach Z ran inside the building, Homestar’s window closed, and Strong Bad bolted for the portal, only to trip.

_Now is not a good time for this...!_

“PUT SHOT STRONG BAD!!”

Before Strong Bad could react, he felt himself get picked-up and was quickly thrown to the portal. As soon as he fell through, he collided with the invisible floor of the Mainframe, quickly pushing himself up to turn around and see if anyone followed.

_Wait. Where’s the portal?!_

And then he heard the very words he didn’t want to hear:

**PUTCHNYA SHOTSKI has left the party.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered why Coach Z also wasn't affected by the shockwave, but I guess he kinda was, in a way, in-game. Since when did he want to host the half-athed halfathlon? Oh well.
> 
> Looks like our heroes are running out of time...and out of friends...Better hope they've still got some left!


	10. Running Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No time to grieve, no time to fight, no time to talk! _MOVE!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't noticed, the rating has changed. I figured since things were getting kinda dramatic, I should probably change the rating like I had thought about for a while.

Dead silence filled the Mainframe, Strong Bad reeling from the shock of recent events. Did...did that just happen? Did a world really just disappear? Just like that? Was it really not just their own that’s vanishing?

Did Strong Mad and Coach Z... _die?_

“Strong Bad! Strong Bad!” Another _HomeSpam_ appeared, the athlete inside terrified, “Are you okay?! Is everyone okay?!”

Strong Bad found himself unable to speak, too shaken to respond. And how _would_ he respond anyway? Just bluntly tell Homestar that his coach was dead? Cry about how his own brother just sacrificed his own life to save him?

“Strong Bad...?”

His emotions were out of control. Had he run out of time? Was the world ending and he couldn’t stop it? Would they come back if the world is restored? Were they trapped in video games forever?

Were they... _gone_ forever...?

“Strong Bad, look at me.”

Strong Bad’s body moved on its own, mostly unfocused eyes meeting Homestar’s deadly serious—yet hopeful and determined—face.

And that smile of sympathy...

“I-I don’t know if they’re okay either...but we gotta keep going. Maybe when we win, they’ll come back to life! We won’t know until we trwy!”

Strong Bad slowly took in his words, trying desperately to cling to whatever was available to get himself centered and away from thinking about what may or may not have or will happen. And while he could cling onto words metaphorically, he honestly needed something _physical_ , too. Like a hug or—

_No no no no no no no! Stop that train of thought right now!_

Strong Bad mentally slapped himself, immediately refocusing at the task at hand. He can get to the rest later.

He took a deep breath and gave a nod to Homestar, mustering the best reassuring smile he could offer. Homestar returned it, but not all of it reached his eyes.

Hope can only do so much, after all.

“Alright,” Strong Bad began, trying (and kinda failing) to keep his voice even, “Let’s get back to Peasantry and finish this!”

While Homestar vanished, Strong Bad made a beeline to the Peasant’s Quest portal. Neither of them noticed that most of the other game portals were ḑ͈̭̩̖̓̂̆̓̌̍̂̏̎͡i͇̜̹̫̩̺̦̳͛̆̈́͆͢͡s̶̩̜̲̦͎̞͎͂̒͆̊̊ͅą̴̗͈̯͍͍͋̆̾̾́̔̕p̴͎̝͇̣̖̫̀̐̾̉͘͘p̸̬̮̝̭̑͊̿̂̃͆̊̋͜͡é̲̫̖͍͎̼̼̥̕͝͝ͅą͙͖͙̬̠̹̆̈́̐̎̓̊̀̌̅̆ŗ̲̱̰̳̥̝̄͛̌̿̅͆͜i̴̛̠̖̤͓͕̙͈̱͛̍̃́ͅņ̛̩̘̯̗͓͎̺̈̂͛͑̀̒̽̚͜͠ģ̷͓͔̭̻͙̭̍̿͛̓͠͝, if not already gone.

The Mainframe was l̶̖̺̞̋̄̒̆̌̾̏͂̓͢͟͝ȋ̶̛̻̗̲̽̂͌̃̏̚͜͟f̡͚̣̩̮͈͈͎͊̐̍̋̈́̓͠ȅ̪̼̬̤̣͓̯̄́̕l̶̨̡̛͔̰̣̠͕͍̻̈͛͗͐̚͘͝͡͝ę̹̙̜̱͈͖̤͍͖͂̌̃̍́͑͛͘s̨͙̰̠̬̮̣̫̯͂̔̽͆̐̇̄s̢̞̹͖̠̰̣̜͑̅͌͌͐.

* * *

“Another quest?!”

Strong Bad listened from afar, watching Rather Dashing deal with a surprisingly haughty Strong Sad, the evil wizard/princess/person/whatever.

“But of course! You must retrieve The Thing of Exquisite Thingness! The Munchox stole it.”

“But I _did_ retrieve it! Three times, in fact!”

“Then retrieve it again!” Strong Sad chortled, acting high-and-mighty.

Strong Bad shook his head, watching as Rather Dashing grumbled and walked away. He couldn’t help but pity him. But here was another snag he really hoped wouldn’t be there; if Strong Sad already gave the quest, wouldn’t giving him the scorpion food be a bad idea since he wasn’t on it? And he’d probably think of another quest too, but it’d be different.

He _could_ give the food to Rather Dashing, but that would just make Munchox go after him, therefore Strong Sad wouldn’t move. And he’d be stuck again.

_I didn’t really think this through...crap._

“Congwatulations!”

“Wah!” Strong Bad jumped back startled as Homestar suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

“You won a fwee MP3 player! Click here for low, low rates.”

“You’re giving me spam NOW?!”

“Hark! Who goes there?” Strong Bad turned his gaze to Strong Sad as Homestar disappeared, the younger brother giving a suspicious expression as he spoke.

“Leave this place now, lest I, the evil wizard Sluushfuund, be forced to cast an evil spell on you.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Strong Bad had to make an effort to not laugh at the stupid name. Sluushfuund...what kind of name was that, anyway?

"Art thou deaf?!" Strong Sad shouted, irritated, "You must return from whence you came!"

Strong Bad shook his head, chortling slightly as he responded, "Yeah, can't do that. And you're not even a wizard! You're a princess!"

"Oh, am I? Magic Missile!”

Strong Sad, after making a quick gesture, suddenly launched three blue fireballs at such speed that Strong Bad barely had time to dodge by the time he registered them at all.

“Thou hath made a terrible mistake, insulting one as powerful as I!”

A grimace came over Strong Bad’s face, realizing what he might just have to do. Sure, in any other situation, he’d certainly take a chance to beat the crap outta Strong Sad, but now that he has magic? That’s another story.

“Somebody get this bloody beast away from me!”

“Roar! Growl!”

The two Brothers Strong turned to the direction of the forest entrance, where Rather Dashing was running out of with a small orange cube. Behind him was a familiar bearded old man with a crown, except that man now had a large, yellow Atari scorpion tail.

That tail was pretty cool, but...

_The King of Town is Munchox the Devourer?!_

“Roar! Growl!” The King of Town suddenly stopped his pursuit when Rather Dashing ran in-between the Brothers Strong, turning his attention to the older of the brothers.

_Oh crap! The scorpion bait!_

“Roar! Growl!”

Thinking quickly, Strong Bad took out the bait and threw it in Strong Sad’s direction, prompting the little brother to fumble and catch it on a reflex. Unfortunately for Strong Sad, the King of Town followed the food with his eyes, now looking at the evil wizard-princess.

“Roar! Growl!”

Before anyone could react, the King of Town smacked Strong Sad with his tail, prompting the latter to fall to the ground.

“How _dare_ you!” Strong Sad quickly got up, dropping the cube of food, “You shall all face my wrath! Arrow of Fear!”

Upon shouting this, Strong Sad shot a thin, but very quick, grey beam at the King of Town, hitting the latter square in the face. When it did, the King of Town was overcome by a sudden great fear, and retreated.

The enraged young man turned to Strong Bad, who was trying to sneak away to the path he was guarding. “As for _you_...”

_Uh-oh._

“Force Bolt!” Bright blue lightening immediately shot out from Strong Sad’s wiggling fingers and enveloped Strong Bad, who screamed in pain. Sure, it wasn’t the _first time_ he’s been shocked (the two previous times _also_ caused by Strong Sad, fittingly), but it still hurt!

By the time the lightening stopped, Strong Bad had collapsed, his Life Bar containing only a little over a quarter of HP.

Strong Sad seemed to pause for a moment before saying, “Wait...I sense something...Thou wieldeth the TrogSword?!”

_Crap!_

Trying to gather his strength, Strong Bad made an effort to push himself up, but the spell really took a toll on him. His arms trembled as he tried to carry himself, only for his strength to give out and fall face first. He kept trying again, but each time he lasted for shorter amounts of time. _C’mon, move! Move!_

“For my master, I shan’t let thee live!”

Strong Sad raised his hands up into the air, and a blue fireball appeared...but began to grow, _very_ quickly. At the rate it was growing, Strong Bad wouldn’t be able to outrun the blast it would cause.

“Taste the magical might of Megafla—”

“Cease now!”

Rather Dashing had returned, this time with an 8-Bit steel sword, and true to his last name (albeit in a different context), he dashed in and slashed the evil Strong Sad, breaking his concentration and dissipating the spell, making sure their wouldn't be a Final Fantasy reference right after a Star Wars reference. That, and it likely would’ve killed everyone nearby.

Rather Dashing turned around and offered an 8-Bit hand to Strong Bad, who promptly took it, somewhat confused. “I thought you were trying to save princesses?”

“Erm...the circumstances have changed.” Rather Dashing admitted, pulling up the wrestle-man and helping him steady when he swayed slightly.

“How?”

“Thou wishes to suffer as well?” Strong Sad interrupted, getting up, “Then you heathens shall die together!”

Just when Strong Sad was about to cast another spell, an unexpected vehicle entered and unknowingly landed right on top of the Trogdor-serving wizard—the Limozeen Space Bus!

“What the?!”

“Holy crap! Limozeen’s here!”

Larry’s face popped-up, the disembodied head freaking out as he spoke quickly, “No time to talk, Strong Bad! We gotta _move!”_

The 8-Bit door of the Bus suddenly opened, and running—and floating—out came Bubs and Homsar respectively, the former holding a shotgun. Quickly afterwards, the bus vanished.

**THE LIMOZEEN SPACE MACHINE has joined your party!**

_Everything’s happening so fast, what’s going on?!_

“Strong Bad!”

Homsar’s voice centered him a bit, but the tone of urgency wasn’t helping. Still, he turned to the floating fellow as his body tingled, which he identified as Homsar healing him again.

“Where is Trogdor? Are we close?”

“Uh, y-yeah. The path is open now. We just need to find him in his lair.”

Bubs made a beeline to the entrance of the labelled trail, shotgun loaded, but stopped to turn and shout, “Then we better get movin’! Everythin’s starting to disappear!”

“By everything,” Rather Dashing interrupted, “Do you mean your land of origin?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s what’s happening here right now!”

Rather Dashing pointed off into the horizon, and the three foreigners watched as, indeed, Peasantry was dissolving into 8-Bits. Strong Bad could swear he even saw a burninating peasant dissolve when the wall of dissolve touched them. The wall wasn’t moving fast, but it was moving.

Strong Bad was about to comment on it when he heard a familiar pop-up noise, but while he could see Homestar, the screen was glitching out and had a mild amount of static on it.

“Strong Bad, are _*KRRZZT*_ lair yet?”

“Um, almost, but you’re breaking up!”

“You too! I _*KRRRZZZTT*_ careful! Twogdor knows you’re _*KRRRZZZTT*_ gonna _*KRRZZZTT*”_

Homestar looked away from the interface at something from his side, and the interface started to glitch even more as there appeared to be a struggle.

“What _*KRRRRZZZZTTT*_ I _*KRRRRZZZZTTT*_ back! Don’t _*KRRRRRZZZZZTTTT*”_

“Homestar?!”

_“*KKKKKKKRRRRRRRRZZZZZZTTTTTT*”_

A loud roar was heard from Homestar's end, and then the screen shattered, the interface closing for good.

As Strong Bad was stunned into silence, Bubs looked on worryingly, saying, "Uh-oh. Sounds like Homestar's runnin' out of time too! Let's get goin'!"

Strong Bad shook himself out of an increasingly panicked state and nodded, but as they and Homsar were about to leave, Rather Dashing remained behind.

“Go on without me!” Rather Dashing called out, readying his sword and turning to Strong Sad, “The wizard is recovering. I’ll hold him off and try to catch-up!”

True to his word, an enraged Strong Sad was indeed slowly getting back up, a quarter of his HP left. The three took that as their cue to bail, Strong Bad turning around to look one more time before running up the trail to Trogdor’s Lair.

Homsar spoke to the two as they continued upwards, “We must use everything at our disposal for this task. We continue or die fighting!”

Bubs nodded, a determined look on his face. “I’m just hopin’ everythin’ gets back to normal after this. I miss runnin' my store!”

“Don’t worry. I have many reasons to believe that everything—and everyone—will be restored when we succeed.”

“Good!”

Strong Bad remained silent, but internally, he was really thankful for being able to hear those words. It meant that those folks who seemed to be gone weren’t really.

Just as long as he and Homestar don’t die.

_“Please don’t die.”_

That was the promise he made...

_You better keep that promise too, Homestar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 might not be out for a while; I decided to try and rewrite a bunch of it. But when it does come up, be on the lookout for a lot of poorly written combat scenes because I can't write combat for crap!


	11. The Lair of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Strong Bad, you have allies. Until you don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I wanted to rewrite this entire chapter since I felt the original draft for it was rushed. Okay, I didn't rewrite the _entire_ thing, but it's definitely a lot longer than the original draft!
> 
> Also, I can't write combat scenes for the life of me, so if this chapter and the next two seem iffy, that's probably why.

_CRASH!_

Bubs had rammed himself into the door, not giving a crap about whatever splinters he may have gotten (which were none, somehow).

Homsar and Strong Bad followed suit, the latter pulling out his Light Musket. It wasn’t a real musket, but it was the closest thing he had to a gun on his person. He even had a limited amount of flash bulbs, his ammo.

“Bubs,” Homsar began, somewhat exasperated, “You’re lucky there was no one in this entrance room.”

“Yeah, sure. Shut it.”

Homsar sighed and turned his head to Strong Bad as the three moved across the room. “Strong Bad, you’ve played this game. How big is this lair of Trogdor’s?”

Strong Bad sighed, shrugging as he responded, “Think of it as multiple sets of seemingly endless hallways. But it’s probably changed because of all this world-merging crap.”

The three reached the door of the first, surprisingly empty, room, and went onwards.

Only to find a room full of algebraic equations.

“Open fire!” Upon finishing speaking, Bubs started to shoot into the living fog of equations with his shotgun. Meanwhile, Homsar and Strong Bad stayed back, the latter shooting into the crowd via his Light Musket that was now shooting balls of light. Homsar, on the other hand, was singing something at varying notes. While Strong Bad had no idea what exactly he was doing, it was probably helping; maybe buffing and debuffing.

Strong Bad's assumption turned out to be right, for soon his Light Musket started to glow a faint red, and as Strong Bad continued to fire the Musket, the blasts of light seemed larger, taking out multiple equations. He also noticed himself glowing a faint blue, and as soon as he did, an equation rammed into him. It did damage, sure, but Strong Bad didn't fall to the ground unlike the first time he encountered these things.

“They just keep coming!” A glowing blue Bubs shouted, retreating back a bit to the other two, his Life Bar no less than 3 quarters full.

True to what he said, equations kept spawning-in, a few even appearing behind Homsar and Strong Bad, who both took a few hits before retreating closer to Bubs.

They were surrounded.

“Homsar, is there a way outta this?!” Bubs shouted over his own gunfire, quickly reloading.

“We’d need a distraction!”

A distraction?! Great. So much for allies.

_Wait. Allies...?_

_“It may be easier said than done, but know that you are not alone. You have allies.”_

_...The Party!_

“Factor _this!_ Algebros!”

On cue, the Algebros appeared, quickly going to town on the many equations that surrounded them.

**“We will not allow you to continue to break the balance!”**

**“We got these guys! You dudes go on ahead!”**

After Homsar healed the group and buffed the Algebros, Bubs turned to the wall, pushing back one of the decorative cloths to reveal a secret passage. “Hey, a secret passage! This could take us to Trogdor faster!”

And so the three continued onwards, Strong Bad turning back to watch The Algebros get lost in the fog of math before closing the door behind him.

**THE ALGEBROS have left your party.**

* * *

“That’s Nebulon!”

Strong Bad pointed ahead towards a green alien-like creature with a tube-like body with three pinkish spots, a large mouth with prominent jagged teeth and tongue, yellow eyes on stalks, and a small tail.

“So,” Bubs began, “Is he just some alien?”

“Not just that! He’s Limozeen's second greatest nemesis next to alternative rock!”

As if to answer the unasked question “why,” Nebulon opened his mouth incredibly wide and shot out multiple orange balls, which the three promptly dodged.

“Limozeen!” Strong Bad shouted, “Help us out!”

The bus manifested into reality, and Larry, while rolling his r’s shouted, “R-R-R-ROCK ON!!”

The bus rammed itself into Nebulon, accidentally crashing through the side wall, and while the bus and Nebulon disappeared to who-knows-where, a 2D king cobra crawled through the hole.

And despite being 2D, it was freakin’ _huge_.

**THE LIMOZEEN SPACE BUS, SNAKES and SNAKE BOXER have left your party.**

_Wait, what?_

Before he could say anything, Strong Bad instinctively stepped back as he felt pain shoot up his legs. When he did, the snakes that were at his feet retreated to go to the king cobra...who was being fought by Snake Boxer.

_“SSSSsssssssss! SSSSSSSSssssss!”_

“Well...that certainly happened.” Homsar raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he started to heal Strong Bad.

“Those traitors...” Strong Bad muttered as he glared at the snakes, ignoring the still mildly uncomfortable feeling of Homsar’s...magic, for lack of a better word.

The sound of a door opening directed their attention to Bubs, who found yet another secret passage. “You two comin’?”

They wasted no time in rushing ahead, if only because they _had_ no time.

* * *

_“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee! Welcome, little hero! And company!"_

Strong Bad glared angrily at the group of 5 Space Clowns in-front of him. From what Homestar had told him, the clowns had been responsible for killing Pom Pom and forcing him to watch. He never liked those clowns, but now he had _more_ than enough reasons to despise them.

“Aw man,” Bubs grumbled, “Why’d it have to be clowns?”

_“Why? Oohoohoohoo! We’ll show you why! Let’s get ‘em!”_

_“This is gonna be fun!”_

_“Time for murder!”_

_“Welcome to your final act!”_

_“I want that one guy’s hat when we’re done!”_

The lead clown jumped ahead, a giant hammer in his hands. The second started throwing juggling balls, the third pulled out a laser gun and started shooting, the fourth got on top of a ball and started rolling towards our heroes, and the fifth started to dance, chanting something. The last clown's chant seemed to make the other clowns glow red, alongside their weapons

“The fifth one is strengthening them,” Homsar shouted as he thwacked back the balls with his hat, “Take him out quick!”

“Kinda in the middle of something here!” Strong Bad shouted, sidestepping the clown with the hammer, quickly firing into the clown’s face before punching him down for the count.

“I got ‘em!” Bubs dropped his shotgun (guess he ran out of ammo) and pulled out a machine gun, blasting away at the clowns, the fifth and second ones going down while the third one dodged nimbly.

As Homsar tried to sing his own empowering song, he got shot straight in the gut, forcing him backwards into the wall, while Strong Bad got launched by the fourth’s giant ball, rolling along the floor.

Crap. If only he had a performer with him...Oh wait, he does!

“Performing Bear, I choose you! Sic ‘em!”

As Strong Bad pushed himself up, the Performing Bear materialized and rolled into the fourth clown, knocking him down, and ran him over. The third one noticed this, and started shooting at the bear, who was quickly losing health as it rolled towards him. This distracted the clown long enough for Bubs to shoot him down.

All of a sudden, two more clowns jumped-in through a secret passage. The lead pulled out a sword (a sword-swallowing clown?!), and the other held a whip.

As the second one whipped Bubs' gun out of his hands, the first charged him, Bubs barely able to move away in-time. Homsar, who had recovered slightly, then sang an incredibly high-note, and the first clown started to glow white.

The second clown was about to whip Homsar before he finished, but Strong Bad reloaded his Light Musket and fired, landing a fatal headshot.

Bubs finally reached his machine gun while he continued to dodge (though he still got hit a few times), but the first clown was about to stab him while he was distracted!

"Bubs!" Strong Bad shouted, "Look out!"

Bubs turned around just in time to see the clown suddenly get rammed into by the Performing Bear, only for them both to get caught in an explosion of a bright white light.

Strong Bad, upon seeing the bear crash down and the clown pixelating into oblivion, gasped and ran to the bear’s side.

Homsar floated over to the wrestle-man, who had pulled out the medkit, and stopped him. “No, Strong Bad. You must save it for later. From what I can see, it has only two uses left.”

Strong Bad looked up at the misspelling, about to protest, but he found that Homsar appeared exhausted; using his magic to heal must take a lot of energy, and noting Homsar's quarter-full Life Bar, Strong Bad realized that he needed to save one use for himself, and use the kit on Homsar now.

But the helpful, well-meaning bear was to be left alone.

As such, Strong Bad held up the kit to heal Homsar, and once it was done, he sadly looked down at the bear, feeling a small amount of attachment towards the furry 8-Bit hero. “Be free, Performing Bear...”

As Bubs found one last secret passage, Strong Bad couldn’t bear to turn around and watch the bear vanish.

**PERFORMING BEAR has left your party.**

* * *

“(Halt genau dort an!)”

The three heroes gasped as they saw not only the Kerrek, but Pom Pom as well, the latter had part of his head replaced by metal and his left eye replaced by a glowing mechanical red eye. Attached to his sides were two machine guns, one for each side.

_Suddenly I’m glad Homestar can’t contact me right now..._

“What have they done to Pom Pom?!” Cried out Homsar, horrified by Pom Pom’s appearance.

Bubs grimaced, reloading his machine gun. “I don’t know, but it don’t look like he’s friendly anymore.”

Pom Pom—or should I say Robo Pom Pom—turned his angered expression to Kerrek as he spoke, “(Kerrek! Töte sie alle!)”

_And why is he speaking German?!_

The Kerrek suddenly charged at them, and no matter how many shots were fired from Bubs or Strong Bad (even _with_ Homsar's buffing of their weapons), he seemed unstoppable, and Bubs and Strong Bad both ran out of ammo trying. Meanwhile, Robo Pom Pom opened fired at the distracted trio.

The three were forced to scatter to avoid the bullets, but Strong Bad got forcefully grabbed by the Kerrek and was lifted off the ground, the Kerrek stomping on the Light Musket that Strong Bad dropped as a result. “Hey! Put me down!”

"(Strong Bad!)" Robo Pom Pom shouted, "(Auf Befehl meines Herrn stirbst du hier!)"

It was then that Robo Pom Pom began to open fire on Strong Bad alone, doing nonstop damage to the Kerrek and Strong Bad, the latter wailing in pain as he continued to get shot.

“I gotcha Strong Bad!” Bubs suddenly jumped at the Kerrek and elbowed its side, distracting the creature long enough for Strong Bad to shake himself out of the Kerrek’s grip. Upon regaining its senses, however, the Kerrek grabbed Bubs by the arm.

Strong Bad quickly took several stumbles away, Homsar floating over to him to heal while trying to boister Bubs' defense. However, Robo Pom Pom took aim at Homsar and focused his fire power on him instead, shooting him to the ground and silencing him. As for Bubs and the Kerrek, the latter had an advantage, throwing around Bubs like a ragdoll.

Strong Bad, realizing he had no other choice, pulled out the TrogSword and dashed towards the distracted Robo Pom Pom, cutting down his left gun.

Robo Pom Pom held his fire and turned to the wrestle-man in a rage. "(Warum Sie wenig—!)"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Strong Bad attempted to stab the Pom, who jumped away, but as soon as he landed, he found that Strong Bad jumped after him. How'd he figure that out? His second gun was gone too.

"(Dafür wirst du bezahlen!)"

Before any more actions could be taken, a loud thud sounded in the middle of the room, catching them both off-guard. As the two turned to look, they noticed Bubs with an almost empty Life Bar, Homsar with a quarter left, and the Kerrek holding Bubs to the ground, face-up.

Bubs was holding something in his left, uh, hand-flipper-thing.

A live grenade.

Bubs let out a weak laugh as he glared at the beast above him. "Heheheh...You're comin' with me."

Nothing could be said in time as both Bubs and the Kerrek were annihilated by the resulting blast.

Homsar, charging out of the smoke of the blast, rammed into Robo Pom Pom, glowing white himself and singing an increasingly louder and higher note, “AaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“(Was zum Teufel?!)"

Strong Bad immediately dashed away to the nearest wall in a panic as a bright white light enveloped the room. As Strong Bad regained his vision, he noticed that Robo Pom Pom had vanished, and Homsar lay there, his timer of defeat going down way too fast.

Strong Bad dropped the TrogSword and ran over to Homsar’s side, about to get his medkit out, but Homsar weakly interrupted him, his hat staying his hand. Strong Bad would've protested this, but suddenly the hat tipped over and placed something into Strong Bad's open gloved hand.

It appeared to be a crystal not unlike the ones Strong Bad saw on the pylon back at the Homsar Reservation, except it was all four colors of the pylon's crystals—red, yellow, green, and purple—and for some reason it was curved in a way that reminded Strong Bad of a question mark.

Homsar, who was surprisingly still conscious, rasped out his final two words, “...Last...resort...”

And just like that Homsar vanished into 8-Bit dissolve, disappearing into thin air.

Strong Bad was alone. Truly alone.

His Light Musket was broken. His party was gone. His friends were either dead or missing-in-action. The only things he had left were the TrogSword, the key that opened the Trogdor machine, the medkit with one use left, that weird-looking 8-Bit teardrop, and the crystal the now deceased Homsar gave him.

He looked down at the odd crystal in his hand for a long moment before pocketing it, took a deep breath, and looked at the door in-front of him. Something in his gut told him that would be the final door.

The door to Trogdor himself.

Picking up the TrogSword from where he dropped it, he clenched his fists as he walked back towards the door, determination in his eyes and on his face.

The door opened as soon as Strong Bad stepped forward, inviting him in.

An invite that Strong Bad promptly took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I replaced Robo King of Town with Pom Pom. Why not? Also I used google translate for Pom Pom's German. Why? I don't know German. That, and considering these are Videlectrix games we're talkin about, the company would probably do something like that anyway.
> 
> We're almost there, folks. Stay tuned for an epic battle!


	12. Game Over...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like that one media cliché; you think the guy's dead, and suddenly he's all, "This isn't even my final form." Strong Bad just didn't want that to happen _now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The epic battle you've all been waiting for!! I hope you enjoy it!!!

**“Hello, mortal.”**

Strong Bad glared at the tall dragon of his own creation. He honestly never thought he’d see the day where they’d meet face-to-face, let alone meeting to kill one-another. The last room, containing the last boss; the final boss.

“Trogdor! The fruit of my skills of an artist!”

 **“And you, mortal, who foolishly stands before me!”** Trogdor bellowed, continuing, **“Everybody knows...Trogdor can't be killed.”**

If his grip on the TrogSword wasn’t tight before, it certainly was now. The cockiness of this guy...!

“Doesn’t mean I can’t freakin’ try! You’ve burninated your last peasant, Trog-dork!”

The dragon did his equivalent of a laugh in his automated voice before giving the best smirk he could muster, roaring out, **“Bring it.”**

Those words were all it took for Strong Bad to launch into action. He leapt into the air, somersaulted, and slashed the sword across Trogdor's body!

Trogdor gave a pained roar as he suddenly disappeared, as though defeated, leaving Strong Bad by his lonesome.

_That...that was it? That was what all this crap was leading up into? That was the final battle with Trogdor?! All the crap with me losing my friends and family and nearly my life was all for one sword swing?!? All of that danger, drama, and action for THIS?!?!_

“...WHAT THE F—”

Because the universe would never allow Strong Bad to cuss, the floor suddenly started to shake, cracking as Strong Bad lost his balance and fell to the collapsing ground.

Strong Bad squeezed his eyes shut and began to silently pray in desperation as debris fell around him. _Oh god, please don’t kill me please don’t kill me please don’t kill me—_

There wasn’t a floor anymore.

Strong Bad began to flail in the air, screaming as he fell down the surprisingly tall chamber that got darker the deeper he fell in. With the last of his not-panicking self, he quickly pulled out his medkit, intending to use it right after he landed.

This was a good call, because when he hit the ground, he was pretty sure that his spine snapped. And probably a couple other bones too. Whatever would’ve happened, his medkit activated automatically, its green light healing him to full before finally disappearing.

“Oh my cwap! Strong Bad, are you okay?!” Strong Bad would’ve pushed himself up more slowly had he not have heard Homestar’s voice. Instead, he immediately jumped back onto his feet, picking up his sword as he ran over to the chained athlete.

Homestar sighed in relief as Strong Bad stopped in-front of him, the athlete standing up from his sitting position. “Phew. I thought you died for a second there!”

“Almost. But forget about me,” Strong Bad began, “What happened to _you?"_

Strong Bad gestured with his free arm and pointed all over Homestar. He was dirty from head-to-toe, and there were some red markings here-and-there, some of them Strong Bad was pretty sure shaped a bite mark on Homestar's left leg.

And _holy crap,_ his Life Bar only had a quarter left.

Homestar looked away for a bit, seemingly reluctant to respond, but eventually got himself to speak. “Twogdor came-in earlier and found me with the interface. He rwipped it outta my hands, and—”

“Hands?”

A glare was shot at Strong Bad (who snickered in response) before Homestar resumed, “And he bwoke it! I twied to fight back, but I kinda got hurt.”

Strong Bad stuttered for a second before shouting, “ _Kinda?!_ You look like Trogdor freakin' tortured you or—"

He immediately stopped speaking as that realization went and slapped him in the face, Homestar grimacing as he broke eye contact. It... _did_ explain a few things. Like why Homestar didn't stay on the interface constantly, for example.

Strong Bad awkwardly spoke again, looking a little nervous (and feeling guilty, surprisingly). "Uh...right. S-sorry."

“N-nah, you...you didn't know." Homestar responded, looking just as uncomfortable, before calming down slightly as he tried to get the suddenly tense conversation back on-track. "Anyway, can you get me out of these chains? They’re kinda tight.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, lemme just—”

An ear-piercing roar stunned the two into a wide-eyed, fearful silence, both of them slowly looking up into the darkness from where the roar came from.

**“I...TOLD...YOU...”**

A familiar robotic voice echoed from above.

**“TROGDOR...CAN’T...BE KILLED!!!”**

All heck broke loose as a giant, scaly, beefy-armed, superbly-rendered Trogdor landed in the middle of the room with a _THUD!_ Four pedestals emerged from the floor, some of them reaching higher than the others, and the S-shaped dragon, with a unique and completely full Life Bar, let out a thunderous roar as the whole room shook in response to it all.

Homestar nearly fainted as Strong Bad took several paces back, and while the former managed to catch himself, the latter could only stutter out, “H-H-How?! You—I just killed you! You—You should— _You should be dead!”_

**“YOU CAN’T KILL A GOD, MORTAL!!! YOU CAN’T KILL WHAT SHALL SOON RULE OVER THESE MANY WORLDS!!!”**

“Rule over—” Strong Bad immediately stopped speaking as his thoughts caught-up to the phrase, soon countering, “In case you haven’t noticed, every world is dissolving!”

**“AS WELL THEY SHOULD!!! THEIR DESTROYED REMNANTS POWER MY ULTIMATE FORM NOW!!!”**

“Wait,” Homestar interrupted, “You mean _you’re_ the weason why evewything’s getting destwoyed?!”

**“IT WAS ALREADY UNSTABLE; I DID NOT CAUSE IT. I SIMPLY TOOK ADVANTAGE OF IT, DEVOURING WHAT LITTLE WAS LEFT OF THEIR PUNY FORMS!!! ONCE THERE IS ONLY ME, I WILL USE MY NEW POWER TO CREATE A NEW WORLD, RULED BY ME!!!”**

If Strong Bad had any visible teeth, he’d be grinding them together so hard that they’d start to break. That meant that, even if Trogdor wasn’t the ultimate cause, he took what little was left of the many video game worlds when they were destroyed. Along with everything and everyone within. He even took away parts of his own world. And his friends. And his family. And was going to use them to recreate a world just for himself.

And he had zero regrets.

“...ill you...” A quiet mutter was heard coming from Strong Bad’s mouth.

**“SPEAK UP, MORTAL!!!"**

“I’M GONNA FREAKIN’ KILL YOU!!”

Strong Bad, beyond his normal threshold of anger (which was saying something), charged forward at Trogdor, who didn’t move as Strong Bad raised his sword in the air and sliced at Trogdor’s reachable body.

But the sword bounced right off.

Strong Bad staggered back as he tried to rebalance himself from the recoil, horrified. The Trogsword, the _one weapon_ that was supposed to be able to kill Trogdor, _failed to work_.

“Uh...Uh oh.” _I’m screwed._

Trogdor’s tiny legs managed to reach the short Strong Bad, kicking him away to the opposite direction of the locked door, roaring as he did. The wrestle-man ended up rolling on the ground when he landed, having to push himself back up.

**“YOU STILL DARE TO STAND AGAINST ME?!?”**

Strong Bad barely had time to run out of the way of the incoming flame-breath, but as he ran, he recalled Rather Dashing claiming that there were weak spots on Trogdor, but they were hidden. Great, what was he supposed to do now?!

“Hey, Homestar!” Strong Bad called out as he continued to dodge to the best of his ability, “You’ve been here for hours, do you have any ideas?”

Homestar (who had backed into the wall behind him) thought for a moment before remembering something, and called back, “When Twogdor and I were fighting earlier, I said he’d get beaten by you! But he said that was impossible without the Bloodstone!”

“The crap is a Bloodstone?!”

“I dunno!”

The dragon’s laugh reverberated in the dungeon, **“MY WIZARD HID IT WELL, THEN!!! YOU’LL NEVER DEFEAT ME WITHOUT THAT ANCIENT TEARDROP!!!”**

_Teardrop...OH!_

Strong Bad quickly searched his pocket for the 8-Bit green-and-red teardrop thing he found way back in Chapter 6, and once he grabbed it, he held it up in the air. “You mean THIS teardrop?!”

The gem’s green was consumed by its red spots, and began glowing brightly, blinding everyone in the room for a short time before the crystal returned to Strong Bad’s inventory. Once the light finally vanished, 5 glowing red spots were present on Trogdor’s body.

One was on the left side of his arm, with another being close by right above where the left wing attached to the body. Another was in the middle of the belly, and another was on the right side of the body, on the first curve of the body. The final one was smack-dab on the top of the dragon’s skull.

**“WHAT?!? HOW DID YOU FIND IT?!?”**

Strong Bad gave the best smirk he could muster with a mouth like his. “Guess your wizard wasn’t as smart as you thought!”

“Hooway!!” Cheered Homestar, doing a little dance that jiggled his chains around.

**“YOU WILL DIE FIGHTING!!!”**

Trogdor suddenly lunged forward via that spine straightening the writer decided to make up back in the beginning, forcing Strong Bad to sidestep. He didn’t expect for Trogdor to swing himself around afterwards, knocking Strong Bad off his feet. Once Strong Bad hit the ground, Trogdor went back to his normal stature and started to unleash his fire breath.

Strong Bad barely had time to roll away, accidentally rolling into the shortest of the risen pillars (at the dragon’s left), which prompted him to stand up. Noticing that Trogdor’s breath was moving towards him, he climbed up onto the pillar and jumped towards the spot above the wing, slicing it clean. While the red spot vanished and the damage was dealt, Strong Bad wasn’t able to land.

Mostly because of Trogdor’s beefy arm socking him square in the face, launching him into the wall.

The launch knocked away the crystal gifted by Homsar, such crystal landing next to Homestar’s feet. Meanwhile, the impact Strong Bad withstood after colliding with the wall took out a large chunk of his HP. When his body flopped back onto the ground, Strong Bad was incredibly dizzy from the impact, struggling to push himself up.

“Strong Bad! Get up! HURWY!!”

But he couldn’t, not on time. Strong Bad could only look up as Trogdor stood before him...

...and began to burnintate.

Pure agony overcame him as Strong Bad’s vision was filled with flames. He could hear nothing but the flames around him, but he was pretty sure he was screaming. Who wouldn’t scream as they were being burned alive?

Was this how the peasants felt every time Trogdor attacked? How panic would quickly turn into pain as their heads burned and their brains melted? Was this how they felt when their whole body was consumed by the flames?

Wh...why’s the pain...numbing...?

Was he dying...?

No...he didn’t want to die...not now...!

He was so close...So close...!

Strong Badia...His friends...His family...!

He can’t die here...

He...He can’t...

_...I..._

_...Can’t..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

Trogdor stopped his breath of flame and stepped back, admiring his handiwork, while Homestar could only stare in abject horror.

There were no visible burns, but Strong Bad was covered in red, just like the marks of the injuries he sustained throughout the adventure. His eyes were closed, his grip on the TrogSword fallen slack as he lay on the cold stone floor.

And his Life Bar was empty.

**'CONTINUE?'**

Trogdor’s horrendous, robotic laughter echoed through the dungeon as Homestar’s vision filled with tears. It didn’t help that, due to the worlds’ instability, Strong Bad’s timer was going down much too fast. It only meant that Strong Bad was...he was gonna...!

_...Last...Resort..._

Homestar flinched as he turned this way and that, trying to find the source of the familiar, whispered voice.

_...Last...Resort..._

A faint white glow shone from beside him on the ground. Homestar followed it with his eyes down to a curved crystal of 4 colors.

_...Last...Resort..._

Homsar’s voice...!

Homestar, as hard as he could, kicked the crystal in Strong Bad’s direction as Trogdor turned his focus away from Strong Bad and to his captive.

**“YOU’RE NEXT!!!”**

And the whole dungeon exploded with light.

Shocked, both Trogdor and Homestar turned towards the source of the white light, which was centered on Strong Bad, obscuring him completely.

Homestar couldn’t help but smile as he let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn't over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...What? You thought I was serious with the notes at the beginning? Nah. I was just joking! (please don't kill me)
> 
> And that crystal is why I held-off on turning Strong Bad into his Ultimate Form. Yeah yeah, I know, I essentially made it a Super Form of sorts, but I honestly couldn't care less.
> 
> Also, I know that in the game, the Bloodstone is never seen, but I also killed off Gel-Arshie (good riddance). So I had to patch the gap up with something.
> 
> Next chapter, the real battle begins! (I promise!)


	13. The ULTIMATE BATTLE!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Homsar's gift and Homestar's quick thinking, Strong Bad is back--and better than ever! Who will come out on top?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for REAL this time! No more fakeouts! The Ultimate Battle is finally here!!!

_..._

_...I’m still alive...?_

**“HOW?!?”**

Strong Bad looked up at Trogdor who, despite the repeated textures and lack of facial expressions, was still conveying utter shock pretty well.

“Whoa...!”

Strong Bad turned his head to Homestar’s direction, and while the latter’s eyes were wide in awe, the former was still trying to register what exactly was going on. If he remembered correctly, he was in the middle of being burned to death by Trogdor.

But now he was breathing, on his feet, still alive, and feeling like a million dollars.

“Strong Bad,” Homestar interrupted, “You look pwetty ripped!”

**“What are you...?”**

Wait. Why did he sound different? He sounded... _tougher..._

Strong Bad glanced down at himself to see if anything about him had changed, and—

 **“Whoa...I don’t believe it!”** _Telltale finally listened to me!_

He found that he had extremely ripped muscles, a gold belt, a spiky wristband over his left wrist, and robot pants. The TrogSword had turned itself into a Big Knife, and all of it and himself were modeled in the style of early 5th-generation video games, complete with a polygonal appearance and low-res textures.

**“I...I’m the best graphics ever made!”**

As Strong Bad joyfully took-in his new look, Trogdor finally snapped out of his deer-in-headlights state and roared in rage.

**“THIS ISN’T OVER YET, MORTAL!!!”**

Strong Bad glared up at Trogdor, his remaining weakpoints still visible.

_And now it comes down to this...the epic battle! The Final Confronscation! The Last Cutscene!_

**“Bring it.”**

Trogdor unleashed his fire breath, Strong Bad jumping away to the short pillar from before, and as the dragon turned to face him when he stopped his flames, Strong Bad leapt forward and slashed into the weakpoint on his belly. This earned him a pained roar from Trogdor as the powered-up Strong Bad jumped back in-case of a close-range attack.

The polygon-ed man once again jumped to the shortest pillar, this time to dodge Trogdor’s spine-lunge, but the dragon quickly readjusted and did it a second time to aim at Strong Bad. This action forced Strong Bad to jump to a pillar closer to the locked door, this one somewhat taller than the first.

Strong Bad then quickly jumped into the weakpoint on the beefy arm, stabbing it. While the attack was indeed successful, Trogdor started to jump up and down repeatedly while thrashing his arm around, knocking down a couple of rocks that hit Strong Bad a few times as the latter was flung off, blade still in-hand.

After Strong Bad landed with a grunt, Trogdor played a dirty trick and lunged as the former was starting to get-up, biting him in the left arm, and as Strong Bad cried out in pain, flung the wrestle-man into the wall opposite of Homestar, causing him to collapse.

“Strong Bad! The flame bweath!”

Strong Bad looked up at the dragon looming over him...

...and rolled away as Trogdor attempted to burninate him.

_Not this time!_

Quickly pushing himself up, Strong Bad nearly jumped for the pillars again, but Trogdor was getting faster at predicting his movements, biting the area before he could try.

_Crap! I'll never be able to reach the rest of the weak spots unless I get Trogdor to turn away..._

“Hey, stupid dwagon!” Homestar suddenly shouted, as if he knew what Strong Bad was planning, “Your mom was a salamander!”

Strong Bad turned to the athlete in surprise as Trogdor, already angry, did the same with death in his eyes and voice. **“WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?!?”**

“She! Was! A! Salamander!”

**“MY MOTHER IS THE GODDESS OF ALL DRAGONS!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!”**

If it weren’t for the intensity of the situation (or whatever was left of it after what Homestar just said), Strong Bad would be laughing pretty hard. He didn’t expect that kind of thing to come out of Homestar’s mouth. Heck, he was finding it pretty hard not to laugh right now!

**“I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU EARLIER!!! DIE, MORTAL!!!”**

Strong Bad’s held-back laugh immediately faded as he looked in-front of him at Trogdor, who was about to burninate Homestar, revealing his right-sided weakpoint. Without thinking, he dashed forward and stabbed the red spot, distracting Trogdor and saving Homestar’s life.

As Strong Bad jumped back, Homestar jumped for joy, cheering, “Hooway! It worked!”

Strong Bad looked back over at him and couldn’t help but feel just a little happy. That was surprisingly smart, even if it was risky. He could at least give him credit for that.

Now there was only one spot left. The head.

Trogdor turned to Strong Bad, pure rage making his already turned-red eyes glow. **“YOU HAVE DEFIED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!!!”**

The dragon took a deep breath, seemingly taking in power to burninate, and his mouth began to glow. From red...

_Uh oh._

Strong Bad quickly looked around the room, trying to find some way up to Trogdor’s skull before he could do whatever he was about to do.

...to orange...

“Strong Bad!” Homestar shouted, obviously panicked but clearly holding an idea, “Try using the pillars! They circle awound him and get taller! Maybe you can climb up!”

...to yellow...

 **“Got it!”** Strong Bad jumped to the shortest pillar, then the next, then the next, then the last—!

...to blue.

_ **“ULTIMATE BURNINATE!!!”** _

Trogdor suddenly arched back, the blue glow within his mouth glowing brighter and brighter—!

**“BURNINATE _THIS!!”_**

Strong Bad jumped from the last pillar, sword raised, and as he fell on top of Trogdor, stabbed the dragon through the head!

A roar of pure agony escaped Trogdor’s mouth instead of the giant blue fireball that almost happened back in Chapter 10 as the blue glow instead covered the rest of the S-shaped body.

**“NO!!! YOUR STYLE!!! I COULDN’T HANDLE IT!!!”**

It was then that Trogdor exploded in multiple bursts of blue flames, forcing Strong Bad to take his sword and jump away, landing in-front of Homestar. Speaking of Homestar, the chains holding him to the wall flashed for a few seconds before suddenly disappearing.

As the bright explosions ceased, so too did Trogdor’s body, leaving nothing left of the tyrannical dragon.

_I...I did it. I won!_

“Yaaay! You win!” Homestar began to jump for joy again, imitating the sound of fireworks, “Ptoo! Ptoo!”

Strong Bad couldn’t hold-back his own joy and jumped right along with him, the two of them both ecstatic and secretly relieved. Trogdor was dead, Homestar was saved, and the world should be turning back any moment now. At last, they could finally—!

The ground below them began to shake.

As did the rest of the dungeon.

The two pals immediately stopped, Strong Bad in particular irritated by the change. **“Awww, man. _Now_ what?!”**

“Must’ve been a load-bearing dwagon.” Homestar said, grimacing.

As rocks began to fall, they dissolved into 8-Bits upon impact with the ground, which helped them realize what Strong Bad is about to state right now.

**“This videogame reality is caving in all around us and fast! We'd better find a fast way out of here! And fast!”**

“There’s a door there,” Homestar turned to the locked door, “and I think it’s the only way out, but it’s locked and I don’t have a key!”

**“A key?! There was a hidden key?!”**

Homestar gulped, becoming incredibly frightened. “Does that mean you don’t have a key? Any key at all?!”

Strong Bad reached into a non-existent pocket and pulled out the key he used to open the machine in the first place. **“I got this, but this was for the Trogdor machine. I don’t think—”**

Strong Bad flashed for a bit in-between his Ultimate form and his normal form before finally resting on his normal look. The TrogSword also changed back, both it and the key dropping to the ground.

The reason that they were dropped, though, was because Strong Bad _himself_ dropped.

Homestar gasped and knelt down, looking over Strong Bad. He was breathing, yes, but it seemed labored, almost as though he had to make a conscious effort to do so. His emerald eyes were still open, but only slightly, and they seemed unfocused.

And from Strong Bad's perspective, he was just so... _tired._

Whatever adrenaline he had been on earlier was gone, his entire body feeling heavy and his mind feeling sluggish. His vision was tunneling, and what vision he did have was blurry. And everything sounded distant, despite being in the same room as everything else.

Neither of them were sure how long he'd be able to stay awake.

So as Strong Bad attempted to make a conscious effort to not pass out, the frightened Homestar looked down at the key his friend had been holding. It was the only key they had...

He had to try it.

There was no other option left.

Homestar picked up the key and ran for the door, but he barely made it halfway before the key yanked itself away from Homestar’s, uh, grip.

The once tiny key became consumed by white light as it suddenly grew in size, and when the light faded, it was a giant 8-Bit key, a perfect fit for the lock!

And as the key unlocked the door by itself, Homestar ran back and picked-up the barely-conscious Strong Bad, who was only vaguely registering the area around him.

The door opened to pure white light, and Homestar looked down at his limp buddy with a reassuring smile. Even if that light meant that they were going to heaven, the dungeon was going to collapse at any moment. And that light also held a chance at getting home.

He’d rather run to heaven with his pal than get there by being crushed to death by 8-Bit rocks.

And thus, with determination, he sprinted, jumping into the light as the dung̵̨̧̱͚̗̱̟̱̖͚̉͛̇͆͝é̴̟̭̬̱͔̻̼̅̿͊̉̒͘o̧̠̳̮͇̓̔̔̾̃̕͘͟n completely collapsed behind him.

For bǫ̶̮̬̦̺̲̍͐̂̃̊͊̊͗̓t̸̥̟͚̦͚̼̖͑͒̊͒̽̓͝h of thȩ̷̘̮̫͚̝̳͂̉͒̅̽͌̄̏̈́m̨̧̛̜̰̤̭͕̽̈́̓͛͊̏͋̎͟͟,̧̙̣̲̲͕͕̰̆͛̾͌͗͐͋̿͡ the wơ̴̙͕̦̠̖̌̈́̐͆͌̉̋͡ŗ̮̱̮̯͋͑͗̽͒̏͘̚l̵̡̨̬͎̗͇̙̠̲̲͗͒̒̊̀̈̃͡͡d went w̵̡̟̳̲̞̣̅̉̋̄͑͆̏̚̚͢h̩̩͔̤̳̟͌̊̉͐̑ͅite.

And thę̴̛̛̯͈̫̦͛̀̿̓̚̚̕͡n̸̢͍̟̼̜̠̘̆̅̉̉͟͟͢͡ it got LO̵̠͕͚̱͓̣̳̳̠͋̉̿̄̓͗̏͘͡͡UD—LOŰ̸͎̯̝̲̜̠̻͖̱̳̈̏͐͋̏̕͝D̢͙͍̖͎͎̘̫̻̬̍̎̍͗̏̎—it got L̶̛̞̤͓̦͔̗̻̐̏̽͑̌̏̐͒́Ǫ̸̛͈͚̬̳̘̻͕̬͆̂̍̽͛͞Ǒ̡̟͔͍͇̰̿̿̀͡ͅO̡̳͉͙̩̼̜͋͋̇̇̓̀̇͜Ō̵̻̭̲̭̬͚̖͖͌͌̚͠Ŏ͍͕̱̗͎̈́̿̍͊͑̿̓͗̕O̴̞̩̳̖̱̦̞̠̩͋͌̈́͆͌͌͜͞O̩̱̞͓̘̹̠͐̋̃͘̚͡U͎͙̩͎͎̤̭̯̤͂͒̾̔̊̏̃̔̚Ư̷̬̟̠̙͌̊͗̄̈̕͜U̵̢̳͔̳͍̹̎̔̉̇̔͒́̐̏ͅU͖̞͍͍̝̥̼̓͑͛̐͞Ü̬̖̯͕̬̹̲̃̃̑̈́̊͂Ū̧̖̹̰̮̪̦͎̗͈̒̃̆̃̆͌̐̎̈U͕͓͖̗̹̘͙̜̗͛͑͛͗͟͠Ư̵̜̙̯̦̜͋̅͋ͅ—̺̳̖̲̣̟́͂̾͋̈̚

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**...**

**...**

**...**

**Thanks for playing!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was all that crap at the end? Basically, imagine visualizing the shockwave experience at the very beginning of the story. Plus a game going error-crazy. And yes, it was absolutely a cop-out to make the chapter seem longer. I also don't care.
> 
> Here's a challenge: Try to translate the gibberish at the end. (Hint: Use Base64 translation! You might have to translate the lines individually though.)
> 
> We're almost done, folks! One more chapter left!


	14. Back to Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering is both a blessing...and a curse. But at least they can bear it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...we're finally here. The final chapter. For you guys, it may have ended too soon. But me? It's been months...and now it's over. For us, anyway.
> 
> Enjoy the final chapter!
> 
> ~~  
> _(insert "Ope there goes gravity" joke here)_  
> ~~

“S...Super...Super Punch Out—AHH!”

Strong Bad’s head bolted up from his desk, his eyes wide in shock. He was breathing hard, but not fast, his heart pounding in his chest regardless.

He blinked a couple of times to try and figure out if he was alive and in a place that was normal for him to be at. Lo and behold, he finally realized he was sitting at his desk, multiple papers in-front of him depicting the completed script for Dangeresque 3: The Criminal Projective, with its physical copy lying nearby. A post-it note was attached to the video tape, and written on it, “Show this video tomorrow!”

But the setting only made him more confused.

Didn’t he already show the movie to the others?

Why was he here, exactly?

Wasn’t he just dying in Homestar’s non-existent arms?

Weren’t they running home?

_Home...does that mean the others...?_

Strong Bad shakily got off his chair to stand, though he wasn’t sure why he was shaking. It’s not like he was scared of what he might see—or not see, as it were. Nope. Not even a little bit. Just because some of his friends tried to kill him and others straight-up died doesn’t mean he’s scared to see them again. Nope. Not at—

“Meh mehmeh!”

Strong Bad whipped his head around to the stairway leading to the basement to find The Cheat, who smiled and waved at him as he got closer.

He was _alive_...and _normal_...

But Strong Bad couldn’t relax and instinctively took a step back, the memory of the furball stabbing him flashing through his brain. Yet as soon as he did, he mentally slapped himself. The Cheat wouldn’t remember doing that, probably. He thought he was someone else!

The Cheat became confused upon seeing Strong Bad’s conflicted expression. “Mee mee meh?”

_Oh crap! Think of something, quick! And don’t be dumb!_

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m fine. Just...uh...had a weird dream.”

The Cheat paused for a moment before shrugging, walking towards the main room.

Where, as Strong Bad saw as he turned his head, both of his brothers were.

_“PUT SHOT STRONG BAD!!”_

_“For my master, I shan’t let thee live!”_

Strong Bad quickly shook his head, trying to get the images of Strong Mad’s sacrifice and Strong Sad’s attempted murder out of his brain.

“PIZZA IS HERE!!”

Strong Bad refocused as he saw the three sitting at the table. Strong Sad was folding his pizza slices over (after trying his best to get the grease off), The Cheat was taking little bites as per usual, and Strong Mad was just devouring a whole pizza specifically ordered for himself.

Strong Sad turned to his bully brother, raising his equivalent of an eyebrow. “Are you going to eat, Strong Bad?”

_Oh crap, I’ve been staring!_

“Yeah...yeah, I’m coming.”

Strong Bad took his own seat and started to eat quietly. Dinner tended to be like this; quiet. He never really got why, since it always felt so awkward. But it was also normal.

Which, right now, Strong Bad was thankful for.

He was also thankful that none of them noticed he didn’t eat as much as usual.

Or just how fidgety he was.

Or how eager he was to get out of dodge.

* * *

He couldn’t sleep.

Whether it was because of the fact that he apparently just woke up from a nap he didn’t remember taking or _literally everything else_ was debatable. Probably both.

And the Trogdor machine...

Strong Bad kept staring at the non-functioning arcade machine from the couch, waiting for it to come to life. Waiting for it to do something. Waiting for it to punch something or someone.

Waiting for it to become Trogdor himself and—

The loss. The pain. The death. The burning. _Everything._

Strong Bad buried his face in his hands, trying to slow down his increasingly rapid breathing. He couldn’t get the images, the noises, the freakin’ _feelings_ out of his head.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t sure if it was all a dream.

Clearly The Cheat and his brothers don’t remember anything. And by that logic, Marzipan, Coach Z, The Poopsmith, King of Town...they probably wouldn’t remember either. He wasn’t sure about the rest, but he had his doubts. The only way he’d find out for sure is if he asked them, and he didn’t want to do that in the middle of the night.

What he _could_ do, though...

Sitting up and sliding off the couch, Strong Bad slowly walked over to the lifeless(?) game, being careful to approach in-case it was still alive or not. Once he got to its side, he knelt down to the cabinet door to see if it was still unlocked.

Lo and behold, it was. But it looked fine. Completely fixed, even! But that didn’t happen until tomorrow! Or...today? Or—

Strong Bad groaned, stopping that train of thought. It really wasn’t making his situation any better.

Especially not when he noticed two familiar items in the machine by their lonesome.

A crystal. The crystal Homsar gave him. And the Bloodstone, except it was 3D and not 8-Bit.

He nearly fainted upon seeing those things, for several reasons.

One: The whole game-merging-crap actually happened.

Two: The world turned back to normal, if the Bloodstone’s appearance was any indication.

And Three: He hadn’t been dreaming, which was great, because that meant he wasn’t going crazy.

But that left him with more questions too, as he took the two items into his hands.

One: Why did time reverse to the day before he showed his movie?

Two: Was he the only one who remembered?

And Three: Did he create a time-paradox? Or was he about to?

He needed to get his answers tomorrow. But first things first: He’s scrapping the movie.

At least then he wouldn’t smash into the machine and bring it to life.

* * *

“I _what?!”_

Strong Bad shrugged at the concession stand man’s surprised reaction. “That’s what happened. Does any of it sound familiar?”

Bubs raised a line-eyebrow-thing as he pondered at the thought, feeling it to be strangely familiar before shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember _dyin’,_ Strong Bad.”

“That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I believe you,” Bubs said, putting his flipper arms up in defense, “but spacetime is something shadier than me. I just don’t remember.”

Strong Bad nodded, both relieved and disappointed that Bubs didn’t remember (who’d want to remember their own death, anyway?), and after saying their farewells, he went on his way.

He eventually found himself walking to The Stick, stopping to close his eyes and gather his thoughts. This ended up being a horrible idea, as memories quickly flashed through his mind, causing him to jolt his green orbs open. If Bubs didn’t remember, he doubted anyone else did either. It was probably just him.

Which was both a blessing and a curse.

It was...weird. He always wanted to be a star of his own video game, or visit Peasantry, or overall, just be epic. And he got to, and it was great...for the most part.

But he...he didn’t ask for the rest.

He didn’t ask to lose his friends and family. He didn’t ask for the world to almost end. He didn’t ask for Strong Badia to burninate. He didn’t ask to feel ungodly pain throughout all of that crap. He didn’t ask to freakin’ _die._

He didn’t ask to feel so... _vulnerable._

Especially not around freakin’ _Homestar,_ of all people.

_This is gonna haunt me, isn’t it?_

Strong Bad could only sigh as an array of emotions weighed him down. Might as well go home and watch TV; maybe that will drown-out his thoughts. And ~~hopefully~~ maybe his memories. So, he began to turn and head—

“STRONG BAAAAAAAD!!!”

Homestar came running at him, crashing into him and causing them both to fall to the ground.

“Ow! Watch where you’re—”

As soon as he felt a trembling Homestar hug him with nonexistent arms, he immediately stopped speaking and went rigid. Normally, he’d be trying to push him off, shouting while doing so. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that this time.

Especially when Homestar was talking a mile a minute through a waterfall of tears.

“IdweamtthatyoudiedandsodidPomPomandsodidevewybodyelseandIwascoldinablueplaceandtherewasadwagonandhehurtmeandhurtyouandtherewereghoststooandtheworldwasendinganditwashorwibleandI’msogladyou’reokayand—"

Strong Bad cleared his throat loudly, signaling that Homestar needed to stop talking for a moment. The signal, thankfully, worked.

“Homestar,” Strong Bad began, “Get off, and calm down while you’re at it.”

After a minute, Homestar obliged, Strong Bad pushing himself up as Homestar stood up, the latter still shaking with fresh tears flowing down his face with a quivering mouth.

Not knowing how else he could proceed, Strong Bad cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly before speaking, “What was that about a dream?”

“I-I...” Homestar sniffed through his slower explanation, “I dweamt that...that Pom Pom...and evewyone...and I was twapped...and-and there was a dwagon...and it...and you...and the world...”

_He remembers too, then..._

“Homestar, uh...” Strong Bad hesitated, scratching the back of his head nervously before replying, “That wasn’t a dream. Not really.”

Homestar’s eyes got impossibly wide, but whether it was out of fear or surprise was impossible to tell.

Strong Bad continued, “As far as I can tell, only we remember all that crap happening. I already asked Bubs about it, so if he doesn’t remember, I don’t think anyone else would either. And, uh, I think time reversed or something? For some reason? I dunno, my head hurts just thinking about it.”

Homestar began to slowly relax himself, listening intently, before telling his side of the story. “Um...I called Pom Pom earlier today about it, and uh...he didn’t know what I was talking about...so I guess you’re wight...”

The two stood there awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say about...well, anything. What could they say? What could they ask? Any word could cause damage to...something. And frankly, neither of them were willing to break anything at the moment.

“...Strong Bad,” Homestar finally started, incredibly hesitant, “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh...sure.”

“Will you...be okay?”

_Say yes say yes say yes say yes say yes, you’re fine, don’t make this complicated, don’t be vulnerable, don’t—_

“...Eventually.” _Oh, for the love of—_

Another invisible embrace from Homestar immediately silenced Strong Bad’s thoughts. There wasn’t any crying, though; it was a gentle, but firm hug that seemed like it was more for comforting him rather than the tight, desperate hug earlier.

“It’s okay,” Homestar whispered, starting to cry again, “We’ll be okay...eventually.”

And the already-cracking dam burst completely, Strong Bad melting into Homestar’s embrace as he too broke down.

All the emotional crap, all the pain, all the dying, all the freakin’ _everything..._

...Neither of them were sure how long they’d been there.

But neither of them cared.

* * *

Homsar looked at the duo from afar, sympathy in his eyes. He knew this was gonna happen at some point; knowing/assuming the ordeals that the two went through, at least one of them would approach the other.

Still, he never thought he himself would "die," of all people. Sure, he's not immortal or anything, but that was the first time he lost his corporeal form. Well, at least he could still interact with some things via the crystal he gave to Strong Bad.

Time wouldn't have reversed otherwise.

Had he simply allow Homestar to run through without any help from him, they would've returned home, yes, but everything and everyone that had pixelated in the video game worlds and those hit by the wave of dissolve that had died would be gone forever. But with that crystal, not only was he able to gift his power to Strong Bad, he was able to interact with the energies of the merged worlds and rewind everything.

...Was he congratulating himself?

...Perhaps. But even he realized that he had little control over the whole situation. This effort was overall thanks to Strong Bad and Homestar.

And yet congratulating them wouldn't be the best idea. At least not right now.

Right now, they needed time. Time to heal. And he can't do that for them if he tries to remind them of the horrors of what they went through. They can't understand his language anyways (reminding him that he needed to learn how to speak theirs).

Instead, he smiled softly and floated away.

He has plenty more of those crystals anyway.

* * *

Strong Bad placed both the Bloodstone and Homsar’s crystal on his desk, gazing at them for a moment before turning to his Fun Machine. After staring at it for a long, long time, he simply sighed and walked over to the outlet at which it was plugged-in.

He walked away only when he was sure it wouldn't plug itself back-in.

And as he went downstairs, he took a long look at the Trogdor machine, in all of its glory, before he taped a note to the screen: ‘Out of Order until I freakin' say so.'

Someone hopped onto the couch behind him, and as Strong Bad turned around, he saw the familiar athlete smiling back at him. “So, what do you wanna do now that you’re done?”

Strong Bad shrugged. “I dunno, man. I know I won’t be playing video games for a while, but...I didn’t think farther ahead.”

“You...wanna just chill outside, then?”

Strong Bad sighed at first, but eventually gave a small smile of his own.

“...Y’know what? Sure.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apart from being the indirect cause of turning the Trogdor Machine to life, Dangeresque 3 ended up being scrapped because, according to the official Strong Bad Twitter, it's not even canon! So now I have an excuse.
> 
> Also, in the actual game, most of the episode was implied to be a dream of sorts, hence why I made it so that Strong Bad (and Homestar) awoke in their respective areas and question reality for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've ever said why I wrote this fic, have I? Well, now that we're at the end, I might as well do it now!
> 
> I loved this particular episode, kinda because I always had a dream of going into the video game world when I was little. The thing is, it's like a "Be careful what you wish for" kind of thing; it's not all fun and games.
> 
> So me, being a living angst machine, decided "...Time to make it mildly serious and angsty and very slightly realistic!"
> 
> So there you have it. The product of my first ever _finished_ multi-chapter fic.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


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